You know what I realized today? You're the only person I ever miss. I have friends, sure. Really good friends, who are really good people and mean a lot to me and my everyday life. It's just that, when I'm away from them (especially if I'm with you) I'm easily distracted from the fact that I'm living life without them. I could live a year with you and you alone and have no need whatsoever to see the other people in my life. I don't know if that's good, or healthy-- but it's the truth.
And it works both ways. I could be surrounded by everyone else I've ever met and I'd still miss you. I'd constantly note things in my mind that I want to tell you, things that I wish you could have seen or heard. Sometimes I even offer up to conversation, "He would have loved that." And people look at me with that pouty puppy look that says "I feel so very sorry for you and your difficulty."
But really? I wouldn't want it any other way. It makes those few minutes I get to spend with you absolutely worth it. I would trade a year of my life for ten minutes on your couch.
The worst part of this is that I can love every gundamn inch of your body, and it isn't enough. It's never enough. I could love everything from the disheveled hair on your head to the funny little mole to the feet you relish holding three inches from my face-- and it isn't enough. It isn't even close. I have hair and moles and feet. I have habits and mannerisms and an overall presence that isn't something you can ignore. I know that. It tears me, but I know it. I almost accept it. I don't think I'll ever be able to fully accept it. You can't just pretend something that devastating doesn't exist.