If you’re happy, I’ll be happy, too.

 

On the good days, my mind is focused on the task at hand. Whether I am calculating water depths at work, or working out at the gym, my mind is concentrated on things that allow me to push away other thoughts. Then there are these bad days, where a small phrase or question you’d ask would set things off like a bomb and trigger the emotions I’ve tried so hard to cover.

Your graduation is coming up and you’re beginning to think about your future career. We were talking about it yesterday. I had urged¬†you to continue applying for an intern position so that you can complete the last of your graduation requirements. I also encouraged you to seek out positions in Taiwan so that you can spend time with your parents. It was then you asked me: “What would you want?”

What would I want, you ask? Of course I’d want you to come back home, and you know that. Come back to where we both spent the majority of our school lives trying to navigate what we thought our lives would look like. I want you to come back to me so I can easily wrap my arms around you and never let you go.

But I didn’t allow myself to say that; instead I told you all I wanted was for you to be happy. I wasn’t lying when I said that, though. I do genuinely want you to be happy and I want you to be able to spend time with your parents that mean so much to you. But we both know if you were to return back to Taiwan, it would be so much more harder for us to talk, to Skype, or to see each other.

All that doesn’t matter, wouldn’t matter. Because as your friend, I don’t have the authority nor persuasion power to to tell you to come back. I can’t tell you that I miss you. I can’t let you know that I am still longing for your hugs, your kisses, and your touch. I still miss you holding me while I fall asleep. Heck, I even miss how you grind your teeth while you sleep.

What really does matter is that you’re happy.¬†Because loving someone means if you see them happy, you’ll be happy as well, right?

But how come I still feel like the knife stabbed in my heart is still there?