Why Do We Miss People?








‘We miss the memories, not the people.’

Quite a saying most of you perhaps have heard or read on a social network here or there, but to what extent is it adequate?

Why do we miss people? When figuring the image as whole, we tend to realise that the living animal inside us favours satisfaction and stableness; two things which cannot be sustained without the incidence of those people whom we take pleasure in their companionship in our lives. And for that reason we seem to merge into an entire new status of meagerness and unsteadiness once those ‘people’ find their ways out of our daily existence.

I remember how when my greatest grandfather passed away, everyone was completely amalgamating into this condition of shock and ambiguity. No one had it coming, and in view of that, it was an utter frustration to everyone in the family. Yet, now that it’s been around 7 years he departed this world, almost everybody is over the plain fact that he’s gone, and they appear to even not miss him at all.

Conversely, things are fairly a bit diverse when it comes to people we’ve been in long-term serious daily relationships with. I must admit breaking up with my ex was one of the bravest and yet most dismal decisions I’d ever committed. The first few months after the break up were just too solid for me to take that I’d often wish to win a step back and change things, but then I would think to myself of how chaotic the situation was and straight away pull the thought out of my head. But why was it immensely tough for me to stop missing her?

Maybe I just still had feelings for her, which I’d sound like a huge moron if I denied the truth that I did, but nonetheless, I kept wondering; did I miss ‘HER’, or simply missed being with someone? Anyone?

Every time the flashbacks of the times we’d spent together across the two years cracked into my head, I’d take a jiffy to think of what is keeping me so fond of her, although I was wholly ended with her presence, emotionally and physically.

And I have come up with a conclusion which suggests: it is possibly the vast solitude each of us comes across within their lives the grounds behind our sentimental moods toward people of our pasts; not mingling around with culture and friends and not enjoying the tiny bits of the things we fancy will just push us into this colossal condition of vagueness and dramatisation, which will ultimately end up with most of us in self denial or even harming oneself.

We often just miss the places we’d been to with those people, the reminiscences of the events that occurred whilst we were by their camaraderie, everything which brought upon us those feelings of comfort and shelter when we were around them; the fragrances, the items, the clothing brands, the music they loved, their favourite colours, the faces, the names, the long infinite list of things they cherished, the things which connect us to that position of complete harmony and soundness we were once occupying when we were with these people. Each one of these things is securely locked in a region in our brains associated with reviving the emotions of keenness and ardor we were once submitted to.

Accordingly, I can straightforwardly say that no matter how warmhearted and devoted we might feel, we’re really not in concrete or emotional need of those who left our lives. We’re just in a struggle with coping with the new situations strained upon us by the absence of a definite lifestyle, and a routine which was once a major part of our livings.

Drag yourself into a similar or even an entire new way of living with new individuals who share common stuff with you, and you’re going to see yourself even more striving to live the most of the experiences your future is upholding for you.

The moment you decide to exit the dilemma of the old people haunting your contemplations, and, prepare for a fresh new beginning with special people whom you will truly enjoy yourself with, you’ll inevitably find yourself ended with missing everyone of your past.


Where Did We Go Wrong?


There I stroll among the relics of the vanished gates of affection, wandering between the reactions of that now pallid love, thinking about how unscrupulous our choices might have been and how things could’ve changed now had we not been so egocentric.

It’s quite ridiculous how a relationship can extraneously desist into complete bareness because of an ostentatious move a partner may commit.

You know sometimes I look back at the past two years I’ve supposedly spent with her and I hardly try to scrutinise those tiny bits of stuff we’d shared, in a pathetic attempt to come to a satisfactory conclusion about it all; were we meant for each other?

I know most of you –especially those who are currently in serene relationships will go like, ‘what you had wasn’t genuine enough’ and ‘if you truly loved her you wouldn’t have given up on her’, but here’s what, I did love her.

Say this sounds cliché, but she did purloin every inch of my thrashing heart, and I venerated her existence to the topmost levels. I’d never revered anyone like her before, and although it’s been a long time we’ve broken up, but questions still irk my head till this running night.

The only cogent reason I could come up with to analyse what happened is that people do change.

Maybe she wasn’t just the same person I thought she was two years ago when we’d first met.

Maybe she was getting sick of the tedium of sticking with one lone person all this period.

Maybe it was me.

Maybe it wasn’t anything.


All I know is that she’s been an ingrate person to me ultimately, and in due course I just realised how puerile I’d been all this time long.

How infantile I was not to ascertain that it was all so frivolous and staid.

And you know what? No, girls are not all the same. Some are dolts, and others are factually mature enough to know how to perform and render their relationships interminable.

So this is a cry to all of you out there living the most of the moments with your partners and enjoying them, do NOT quit, and hold on to the ones you love, keep on making them feel unique and special. No matter how many times they’ll take off your piss, argue with you over the most ludicrous concerns or make you feel unwanted, never attenuate and relinquish them out of your life, because once they’re gone, it’s you who’s going to seize the blame.



Strange how obscured emotions find their routes of languid escape out within the most feeble situations one encounters. How the evenness of an aesthetic and affable bond could just miraculously morph from something so poignant and sentimental to utter ashes and sheer remnants. As if tolerating what was left in the aftermath of the over-idealistic turmoil of feelings was vain, like we’ve lost the most petite inkling of wish that anything would posthumously resurrect from the mass of havoc we’d committed. How what was once envisaged as the elite romanticism was abruptly wrecked down into pure odiousness, and the flashbacks of the burgeoning seconds we’d shared have altered from blissful chants and euphonies to potent and intolerable rackets. How I was satirically under the magic of your saccharine smiles and illusory touches. How callow and naïve you’ve turned the sage prudence inside me. How I deplore each and every moment I’d calamitously worn out with you.