I hope he misses me. I hope he misses the hell out of me.
I hope he misses the way I was always there for him. How I always greeted him with a kiss and a long hug. How I was always happy to see him. How I rearranged my schedule and all my priorities to make sure that he was at the top.
I hope he misses the things I did for him. How I always dressed up and looked cute for him, even if it was just going to be a night hin. How I rented his favorite movies and tv shows when he was having a bad day or brought him a snack when he was busy or stressed. How I did things that weren't my idea of fun because they were things that meant a lot to him.
I hope he misses the adventures we had. The road trips, the little episodes and the big trips. I hope he misses how I snapped a thousand pictures of us during the little moments and big experiences because I wanted to capture the moments that meant a lot to me. I hope he misses the amazing moments in the hotel rooms and the quiet times where we did nothing but just be.
I hope he misses how I kissed. How I got lost in the moment and just wanted to be close to him. I hope he misses how much I loved cuddling and holding his hand. How making out for a few seconds in public didn't phase me and how saying something dirty didn't embarass me. I hope he misses how open-minded I was.
I hope he misses the love I gave him. How I would have done anything and tried everything for him and for us. How much I believed in us and the power of love and how willing I was to try anything to make it work. I hope he misses waking up next to me in the morning, smiling because I was so happy to see him.
I hope he's wretched over the fact that he lost me. That he let the one person who made him happiest slip away.
I hope he regrets losing me. I hope he misses me every day. I hope he looks back on our time together fondly and with anguish and a little pain.
I hope he misses me. But I don't miss him.