It takes 21 days to form a habit. But it took me much less than that to know that I wanted you. I don’t know how or why… I just knew. After several failed relationships and random dates, by now I’ve developed the uncompromising ability of knowing whether something will work or not. And for a while I thought nothing would work out, until you came. And I didn’t have to wait 21 days to know you’d be a habit I’d be having a hard time forgetting.
Is it because I’m a visual person? Is that the reason why I’m unable to erase the memories off my mind? Is there any other explanation why I keep remembering the smallest most random things for the past four months? Because believe me, I tried. I am trying like hell to forget. I am trying to forget that we once held hands in your car. Or maybe twice. Probably thrice. I almost quit on you, because it hurt too much when you told me you could never choose me, choose this life. I said it was fine with me, then you told me you’d leave sooner or later—probably sooner. Then I said it was fine with me—that’s what I’m trying to forget.
Because kissing you was always better than the last one, and because every now and then you’d do something that would just cut right through me, and because, I swear to God I only wanted you to be happy. So yeah, it was fine with me, really, because I wouldn’t trade the feeling of having you for anything, not even knowing that you’d leave me anyway.
I think I read into every word you said, every little thing you did—and I did—too much. Were you getting bored? Was I in too deep? Is it too obvious? Am I caring too much? Am I giving you too much credit for who you really are? Are you finally going to choose me? Am I crossing the vague line beyong loving you at the expense of hurting myself? Is there even such a thing as too much?
You see, it was never in my nature to just let go. I was never the type to just go with the flow, and throw to luck the off-chance that we might be together some day. But I guess that’s exactly what I did. I see now how stupid that is, because how can you choose a life you’re ashamed of? How can you choose a person you can’t be proud of?
So yeah. I want to forget. I badly, crazily, unreservedly want to forget.
But if I could? I’d gladly do it all over again.