You'd Have A Chocolate Milk With Me at 2:55am

You know what I would do if you were here? I'd message you. I'd say

Hey.
I know it's late. I'm actually already showered and in bed, but do you want to grab a chocolate milk or something and just... be?

You'd say yes, because I meant everything to you and because of that, you'd know my most honest conversations with myself take place at 3am.

I'd pick you up and we'd drive to the 24 hour petrol station. We'd run into the Kwik Spar and get our milk and maybe a couple of snacks. Although I don't really feel like eating right now.

I'd park my car up on the hill that lends us the most stunning view over our little city.
You would comment on how my fluffy yellow pajama pants looked really comfortable.

We'd silently admire the twinkling city lights below us. The silence is always comfortable between us. That's the thing about us, sometimes our shared silences hold more meaning than any words we could ever utter to one another do.

You'd know the words I was about to say before they'd even formed on my lips.

I would then try (and unfortunately fail quite miserably) at explaining this feeling that's been swallowing me up. This homesickness for a place... a person... that I've yet to meet, experience and love.

I'd tell you that tonight my heart felt empty, yet physically heavy in my chest at the same time.

Maybe I'd cry. I'm not sure.
I'm no stranger to crying, or to feeling things.
But I'm not sure if this is the kind of sadness that brings about tears.

I'd tell you I'm being silly, although deep down I don't really believe that I am.
I may even apologise for being this way tonight, knowing full well that I'm not sorry at all.
Not even a little.

Music would probably be playing softly through my little Honda's speakers. My soul probably would have felt the lyrics a thousand times before I understood them.

You'd let me talk.

I'd say that a lot of the time I felt lonely. I'd say how I couldn't wait to be loved by a boy.
That's me. Rushing through life. Craving the future and often forgetting to cherish the present.
Longing to be in a relationship, yet still so ready to wait. Apprehensive - afraid even.

I'd laugh at the sound of my own voice, my own words. I'd definitely be embarrassed.

I'd tell you that I feared that I was wasting the days away. Greeting them with neither extreme happiness nor paralyzing heart ache.

I'd express my disappointment at the fact that I'd finished my chocolate milk.

I'd try and justify all this emotional stuff by telling you that I'm probably just feeling this way because I've just finished reading The Fault In Our Stars. I'd tell you that I could never talk like this to anyone else and that I was pretty sure I was the only one feeling this way. I think people are just scared of their emotions, of voicing them and making them known to themselves, I'd say. You'd smile a knowing smile at me and say "or maybe everybody in the whole damn world is just scared of each other."

I'd try to make sure I hadn't scared you off by telling you that I'm not really as sad as all of this makes me appear. Only, I keep forgetting that there's nothing I could do or say or feel that would make you want to run away or love me any less. You keep telling me this, and it's not that I forget, it's just that maybe I've never really believed you.

I'd tell you that my mom wants me to call her every now and again. We would both laugh at that. At this point you might worry about me slightly. You might wonder whether there's still some sadness and feelings of abandonment and betrayal that go along with all that. I'd read your thoughts and tell you no. Not today at least. Not for a long time.

At this point I'd probably be done. Just like the chocolate milk.
I'd look at you, feeling so much better, and be overwhelmed by my love for you. I'd try and tell you how grateful I was for you but there goes that whole silence over words thing again...

I'd tell you how great it was to just sit here in the middle of the night over twinkling lights. I'd pause and then tell you how wonderful it would be if you actually existed.