I thought I was enough for him, I really did. Maybe I just talked myself into it so many times that I actually started to believe it. I thought there was something there. In the way his brown eyes looked at me, in the way his gaze was the only one that could ever hold mine, in the way he’d stand over me so tall. I loved the way he’d say my nickname, so overly used by others but somehow it sounded different, perfect coming off his lips. I loved our locker numbers and the way we joked.
I miss the way we used to be, how I told you my secret, something that had hurt me beyond imagine and you were the one who was there, silently and patiently listening while we sat on the tires and the rain drizzled over us. I miss the way you’d say hi to me in the hallways. I miss when you used to say more than 5 words to me in a day. I miss joking and I miss our locker numbers. Mostly, I miss being able to confidently say in my own head that I wasn’t the only one who felt this way. But now, even I can’t fool myself. And to think that I thought I was enough for him, I really had. Maybe I just talked myself into it so many times that I actually started to believe it.