I have been loud and pretentious
I have been utterly threatened
I've gotten candy for my self-interest
Heaven forbid I be criticized
Heaven forbid I be ignored
I miss when he loved me, and showed it. I miss manipulating him, and testing him. I miss creating a little crisis, just to make sure he would be there to rescue me. He always did, and he's still who I think to call first when I hit a bump.
It' different, now. I'm not allowed to wake him up at 3 in the morning, sobbing. I've almost stopped crying entirely, because he's the only person I liked crying to. Going to him with problems was amazing, and he would give me this rush of love and security and it was better than never having been upset at all.
He asks me if I'm okay, but only so he can make an excuse to go with a clear conscience. He wants me to say I'm fine, because that makes it easier and simpler for him. He doesn't want to stay up with me and pat my hair while I sniffle, and he doesn't get excited when I'm happy. If I'm fine, then we can swap amusing anecdotes every once in a while, and pat ourselves on the back for staying friends.
"It's Melissa, from this summer."
That's not my fucking name. It's just Melissa. To your best friend, there should be no modifiers or qualifiers necessary. When I talk to my friends, they assume I mean you. Even if I add descriptions and last names, it's always, "You mean the guy from New York?"
I'm not in love anymore, but I still love. It's still painful, because I still love him.
But I'll be fine.