Missing Someone Is the Worst Kind of Quiet

Missing someone has to be one of the most uncomfortable feelings there is. Not heartbreaking in a dramatic, movie-scene way. Just… annoying. Lingering. Inconsistent in the most consistent way possible.

Because I won’t miss you all the time. That’s the messed-up part.

I’ll go hours feeling completely fine. Scrolling on my phone, laughing at dumb stuff, replying to texts, convincing myself I’m good. Like, wow okay, growth. Maybe I’m finally past it.

Then I put my phone down.

And my brain goes, oh. Right. You.

It hits out of nowhere. Not heavy enough to knock the wind out of me, but heavy enough to pull my attention away from everything else. Just this quiet reminder sitting in my chest like, yeah… you still miss them.

I’ll be doing the most random things too. Walking to class with music in my ears, feeling completely in my own world. Not missing anyone. Not thinking about anything deep. Just existing.

Then I sit down. The music stops. The professor starts talking. And suddenly my brain is gone.

I couldn’t tell you a single word they’re saying because all I can think about is you. Where you are. What you’re doing. How weird it is that I don’t know anymore. How there was a time I knew all of it without even trying. How I could’ve texted you in half a second and heard back. How normal that used to feel. And how wrong it feels that it’s not like that anymore.

That’s what missing someone actually is.

It’s not constant pain. It’s not crying every day. It’s these in-between moments. The quiet ones. The ones where your brain finally has space and it reaches for someone who used to live there.

And the worst part is you can’t force it to stop.

You can stay busy. You can distract yourself. You can convince yourself you’re okay. And maybe you are. But the second things slow down, the feeling shows up again. Not because you’re weak. Not because you’re stuck. But because at some point, that person was part of your routine. Part of your safety. Part of how your day made sense.

Unlearning that takes time.

So yeah, missing someone literally sucks. Not in a poetic way. Not in a romantic way. Just in this deeply human, inconvenient way that shows up when you’re not prepared for it.

But I guess if I’m being honest… it also means what you felt was real. And even though it’s uncomfortable, even though it catches you off guard, that’s not something to be ashamed of.

It’s just proof that you cared.

And sometimes that’s all it is.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.