I Wish We Could Have Met Differently

I wish we could be a part of each other’s lives.

Missing you is painful.

Wanting to be able to talk to you is painful.

Grieving your absence is painful.

I wish we had met under different circumstances.

I don’t regret you being my therapist, because you having that role in my life changed me in so many ways.

But I wish it didn’t have to mean that talking was impossible.

That having a friendship was impossible.

That the connection had to stay locked inside the boundaries that kept us from ever actually knowing each other beyond that space.

It’s strange… how someone can impact you so deeply, help you reshape parts of your life you didn’t think could shift, and then the role itself becomes the very thing that makes anything more impossible.

There’s no version of this where we get to cross paths differently.

No version where we get to choose something else.

Just this one… where I miss you, where I wish things were different, and where I’m still learning how to carry the ache of that without letting it swallow me whole.

And this version also is me carrying this small lingering hope, that one day a different version could exist, without it hurting either of us. I don’t know if I will ever fully be able to let go of that small hope. I’m not sure why I have it, but I think it’s the love I hold hoping for what my heart wants.