10/28/2021
I verbalize how much I hate what little time we get together, but downplay how many emotions play a part in that equation.
It makes me angry to feel lonely because I value my independence so highly, but I never want to be alone when it comes to you.
It makes me jealous of the people around me that get to see their partners on a regular basis. That they have a chance to recharge and show back up in the world with full battery every morning.
It makes me feel insecure because I feel like there’s so many parts of me you can’t see regularly. It feels like you might only know a fraction of me. The parts I want you to see in our limited time.
It makes me nervous that when we get more time you’ll learn things that you dislike that you might have seen sooner had the circumstances been different.
It makes me feel frantic to capitalize on the time we get. I don’t feel relaxed when we’re together anymore because I’m always worried about making every moment count, and then fear the upcoming week I’ll have to endure without you.
I tell myself that you’re my “weekend boyfriend” because if I allow myself to think about how much I miss you, it’s almost crippling. I go full pity-party and don’t want to eat or workout or speak. So, suppressing the reality feels easier.
These are the things I don’t really say straight to you, because I don’t want you to worry. I don’t want you to think that all these feelings piled up equal less interest on my part, because that’s simply not the case.
All of the not-fun feelings I fight when it comes to us are more than worth it. There’s not a second of doubt in those moments. But rather, patience.
I try to remember to value the times I’m without you, because I know one day I won’t be.
We’ll get off work and run home to each other to cook dinner and unwind. We’ll fall asleep together and wake up together, recharged, and put that life on repeat.
But man, I’m really tired of missing you.
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