I stared at the blank text box with glossy eyes and blurry vision. Butterflies used to fill my stomach when I would see your name. But it was always in the best way, in the warm-hearted, excited way. When I couldn’t see you, seeing your name pop up would make my day. Knowing you would have something funny, or encouraging, loving or personal to say. I used to know you would tell me everything, and I could tell you anything.
I see your name and I stare at it. There’s 5 words. So simple but not in the meaningful way. In the way that leaves me feeling like I have nothing to say.
So I stare at your name
And I’m starting to wonder if having none of you is better than only having some of you, when what I really want is all of you.