You’re a reminder of my vulnerability. 

So I avoid thinking about you, about us. Thinking about us means it was real. Pretending that you never existed is easier than accepting who I became.

And maybe that’s selfish; avoiding what I once thought as forever to spare my feelings. Feelings that have decided to emerge and haunt me. 

Remembering you is allowing darkness come into light where I don’t want it to be shown. It means digging up faults I’ve purposely buried in hopes that I would forget.

But I haven’t and I won’t. 

And so I’m left with no choice but to remember. Forced to feel the unhappiness that was felt back then. 

The hard part is convincing myself that I am a good person. Am I? 

Remembering you causes me to cringe. The shame pulls me back in, I push the thoughts back out. 

Remembering you steals away the ability to move forward. Stuck in time, stuck in the past. 

Worst of all, remembering you proves I’m unworthy of any love. 


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