Can’t sleep. Thoughts in form of a letter.
Dear J, or as I used to lovingly call you, Benny,
Would you believe that your first girlfriend apparently still cries over you, even though it’s been five years since the first time you both met?
I know. It’s hard for me to believe, too.
I don’t remember when was the last time I cried over you. It’s been a long time now.
I don’t even know what triggered my thoughts about you. I was about to fall asleep, until I thought about you for some reason. And then cried. And then I tried to trace every single memory of us, to squeeze out every last tear. I don’t know why I do it. Is it because I want to forget? Is it because I don’t want to forget?
You may be doing terrific right now, or terrible, I wouldn’t know (and honestly I don’t really care), but I think you’re pretty lucky about one thing at least: you have someone who cared about you enough to be thinking/crying about you despite the long gap in time of separation and no contact. Ever think about that? Probably not.
My favorite memories: Swimming day in P.E. when I’d sit at the edge of the pool and you’d swim over asking me why I didn’t go in, and I replied, “It’s cold.” Days in P.E. when I’d be walking to the locker room and you’d yell my name to say hi but I wouldn’t hear you, so you’d yell louder until I heard you and when I did, I’d smile. Cold mornings when you’d keep me warm and attempt to tickle me. Walking from the bungalows (Mrs. Turner’s class?) and you shyly asked, “Will you go out with me?” One day after school when you insisted that your mom give me a ride home and when I finally met her I thought she was really nice (I wonder if she ever wondered what became of me after we broke up). Choir when friends would smirk and hint and tell me you had a good expression while singing because you must have been thinking about someone special. That one time after school when I had kissed you on the cheek for the first time and you kissed my forehead in return and soon after, James was talking to us about something but then we admitted that we didn’t hear a word James had said. As time passes by I probably remember less and less, but I easily remember how much I had loved you back then. I can easily remember the desperation I had the days following our end. Perhaps in fifteen years even more will deteriorate, in fact that is inevitable, but I believe I will still remember how much I had loved you and how bad I had felt having lost us.
I remember that day in an AP review session on a weekend, you said, “Wow, Tiffany’s wearing shorts.” And that’s when I subconsciously knew I lost you, deep down. I could have been wrong, but it happened anyway, didn’t it? Either I had excellent foreseeability, or it is just pure, sad irony that it happened anyway.
I remember talking to Jazmin one time and she told me you said you won’t get over me for a long time, probably years. That’s lolicious because I’m pretty sure you got over me fast. Once I was flipping through a friend’s MySpace pictures, and I can still remember you commenting on how hot this (not even hot) girl was. It was like a stab to the heart. Years to get over me? What a load of crap. Do you know how hard it was to be lab partners with (my friend and) your near-future girlfriend and see you two across the lab table flirting two feet away from my face? Probably not, and you probably didn’t care, either. Heartless.
Well, it’s all the past. But of course, who I am today is composed of past and present. Therefore, when you say it’s “all in the past” it really isn’t. It’s still here, being carried into the present to make my memories and make me who I am. When someone tells you to “move on,” you know you will move on. You will keep walking, keep moving, keep breathing, keep living, keep finding new happiness and new sadness, keep having new experiences, but memories will always continue to stay dormant in your mind.