Not in the simple way people say it when they’re lonely.

I miss you in the quiet moments. In the seconds before I fall asleep, when my mind forgets how to pretend I’m okay. I miss you when something happens and you’re still the first person I want to tell.

Sometimes I catch myself thinking about what it would be like if you were still here. If I could hear your voice again. If I could just sit beside you without saying a word and somehow feel like everything was right.

The worst part is that life keeps moving.

The sun still rises. People still laugh. Days turn into weeks, and weeks into months. And somehow, the world expects me to move on as if losing you was just another thing I was supposed to survive.

But I still look for you in places you’ll never be.

In songs. In strangers. In old memories I probably shouldn’t revisit.

And maybe that’s what missing someone really is — carrying a place inside you that used to belong to them, and realizing you’ll never know how to fill it again.

I don’t know if you ever miss me.

But God, I hope you do.

Because I miss you more than I’ll ever know how to say.