I'm seeing him everywhere. In the faces of mallrat children who are in my path, in the gait of someone walking far ahead of me on the street. I am hearing his voice on television and I keep thinking of jokes that only he would think were funny.
How does missing someone work? It is so irrational, particular this ache-like missing of someone I am *so* much better off without. I was so glad to be rid of him, so glad to be out from under him, and now I miss him? Why?
Why does your body miss an absessed tooth that has been cut out or a smashed limb that has been amputated?
And it's not just him, either. I miss Reed. I kick myself even to think that, much less write it, but I really, really miss Reed. I miss belonging to something. Sure, more often than not it was something I'd have rather not belonged to, but that doesn't make the posession any less sweet when it's gone. I miss feeling like it is worth while to try, like there is something coming up that's going to be even better. I miss being young--not youngish, but young. Young enough to have an excuse. I miss living in a dorm, eating cafeteria food. I really miss late night runs to Denny's and Carrow's. I miss the bizarrely stimulating conversations those trips spurred--conversations that left me wondering for days if I really would rather be a boy? I miss years worth of inside jokes, people who understood what I wanted to do not because I explained it to them, but because they wanted to do something similar.
It is never going to be like that again. And just like I should be (and usually am) glad to be rid of him, I should be glad to be rid of all of it. I should really believe what I always say--that I am glad I went, but I wouldn't recommend it for anyone else and I never want to go back. But today I don't mean it. Today I'd give anything to go back.