{ aching }

Aching.  Longing.  Wanting.  Feeling alone.

These are the main feelings that are flooding me right now.  The anger is slowly subsiding, and the dull, steady ache is slowly starting to come back.  But it's different this time.  It's not the same anxious, nervous type of ache.  It's not filled with confusion/hope/doubt.  This is different.

This is the feeling of losing your best friend.  

It hits me in random moments- seeing a recipe I know he'd like; hearing a song that reminds me of him.  It comes when I have a moment to be still, when my phone is silent, and I realize that I won't hear his distinct text sound anymore.  When I quickly look at my calendar and realize that he has the night off, and that we should be doing something.

I know I shouldn't miss him.  I know that I should still be angry.  That I should be thankful we didn't work out; accept that it wasn't God's will and just move on.

But the ache is still there.  And I still want him.

I hate to admit it, but it's the truth.  I want to hear his voice, see his smile, and feel his arms around me in a hug.  I want to meet up with him for dinner when he's on a shift, and hear about his night.  I want to know what he's thinking and doing.  I want to hold his hand, drive in his car, take our long walks with Frank around the neighborhood, and laugh under the stars.  I want to catch him watching me while I cook dinner, and watch him vainly trying to help me.  I want the comfort of knowing, and being known.  The feeling of contentment.  I want the smile he used to give me back.

I want him to want me.