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                                                 The One I Miss the Most


To say that I miss you is a misleading lie. The truth is I miss the person I used to be when I was still with you.


I miss guffawing at the silliest details, I miss being so simple, so easy to please. Back then, a walk in the park was something that could buoy me over for weeks. I miss the tension between hope and utter fear that wrapped me up like a cocoon.


Yes, there is no point missing you, but it is important for me to remember who I was before I became quieter, more cynical, and sometimes, I admit, withdrawn. 


I know part of me is still that fun-loving person, that despite whatever I say, I am still most happy with simple pleasures, how wonderful and honest conversations and a cup of coffee could make me satiated. 


I am trying to break a path for another dream, but I want to not stop missing these memories. I want to be reminded of what I once was and how perhaps with a bit of effort I can balance that side of me with this more prudent side, the side who should by now know better.



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