I miss you, not like a broken alarm clock buzzing too loud in the dark. I miss the way your voice used to carry that specific kind of warmth, like an old friend coming home from a long walk rather than a scheduled meeting. It felt less like "Hello" and more like "I'm still here." Sometimes, when I'm working late into the night, staring at a screen that just keeps looping on my job title, the thought of you fills the room. But this time, I'm not looking at the screen. I'm looking out the window at the rain hammering against the glass. The sound is loud, relentless, and it reminds me of the quiet moments we had standing outside the store, sharing a hot potato and crying about the weather. Now, the store is gone, but the echo of that sound still lives in my chest. You don't need to fix anything for me. You don't need to explain why I keep asking questions or why I get so confused about the new rules. Sometimes I just need to know that you're okay, that you're safe, that you're looking at the world with the same eyes you always have. I get it. I always get it. You always get it. And yet, I still stop to say it out loud, because I want to make sure you hear it, even if you're busy with your own life. It's hard to balance. I try to be the one who makes the plans. I try to be the one who checks the schedule, who reminds you to hydrate, who ensures you eat something. But lately, I've realized that maybe I'm the one who's a bit too ready, too anxious, too eager to fill the space left by you. It hurts to see the calendar full without your name on it, or to feel the weight of a deadline that feels heavier than usual because no one is actually there to help lift it. But I can't change the world, and I can't fix the code, and I can't run the machine. All I can do is be here. Just before the next deadline, just before the next shift ends, just before the next day starts, I'm going to check in on you. People say time is money, but sometimes you realize time is actually just the distance between where you are and where you're going. For me, it's the distance between your good mood and my bad mood. It's the gap between "I'm ready" and "I'm scared." And sometimes, the scariest part is realizing that maybe I'm just a bit scared too. But then I think of you, thinking about all those small things you've done for me without me even noticing them. I still remember the time we were stuck on that project where we couldn't find the right tool. The frustration was real, the silence in the office was thick, and I felt like we were failing. But then you came over with a cup of tea and said, "Let's just try again." That moment changed everything. It taught me that we don't have to solve everything perfectly before we can be okay with the mess. Sometimes the mess is the point. Sometimes the mess is where the real connection happens. Now, when I think of you, I don't just think of a text message or a meme. I think of the feeling of looking at someone far away and suddenly wanting to be closer, to be in the same room, to be able to hear their heartbeat without it being so loud. I think of the way you used to laugh at my jokes, even the terrible ones. I think of the way you looked at me when I was nervous, not judgmental, but like you were trying to understand me. It's a lot to carry. It's a lot to miss. I know that once someone crosses over, the gap gets bigger. I know that eventually, the "you" we knew might not be exactly the same as the "you" I know now. Maybe I will grow up, maybe I will move, maybe I will find people who make me feel safe again. And maybe I will forget. But right now, just right now, I want to keep you in my thoughts. I want to keep you in my schedule, even if it's just in my head. I want to keep you in my playlist, even if I can't remember the song we used to listen to. Maybe one day you'll come back to my life. Maybe one day we'll sit on that bench again and talk about nothing important. Maybe we'll just sit and watch the sunset, and I'll tell you it's beautiful. But until then, I'm going to keep sending the little things. I'm going to keep sending the photos I forgot to take. I'm going to keep sending the playlists that are stuck in my phone. I'm going to keep sending the little strength I give you when the world feels too big and the world feels too hard. You are my favorite place to be, even if you're not physically there yet. You are my favorite distraction, even if I know it's temporary. You are my favorite anchor, even if I'm floating in a sea of uncertainty. I don't need to convince you that I love you. I don't need to prove I can change. I just need to tell you that you are still the most important person in my life. That you matter. That you are always worth a second, a thousand, a million. So, if you're reading this, know that you're not just a notification in my inbox. You're not just a name in a list. You're the reason I check in early. You're the reason I stay up late. You're the reason I try harder. I'm not asking for perfection, I'm just asking for you. I'm asking for you to stay. I'm asking for you to feel safe. I'm asking for you to feel loved. And I'm asking for you to remember that I'm still here. The world is big, and the road ahead is long. And I hope, just for a little while, that you're okay too. That you're smiling. That you're thinking about me. Because I know you are. And because I'm still here.