I remember the first day I met you. I guess in the end, you start thinking about the beginning. Although you and I still can't agree on the day we met, I remember what it was like to get to know you. You were always so vague, and it bothered me that I couldn’t put a finger on you, even after three years. But you march to the beat of your own drum, and that's a life full of adventure. There were many lows in which I thought we were over and many highs in which I saw myself with you in the future. I still haven’t forgotten the bad because that's where I’ve learned, but I also forgive because I love. Music was what brought us together, and that’s such a bittersweet thing; there are many songs that I refuse to listen to because of the memories they bring. The comfortability we had was such a blessing and a curse. I learned things about myself I've never came to realize, and that I do thank you for. I’m glad I’m one of the few who know who you really are and that’s my story to keep, but this has made me vain. The thought of not being your rock and becoming your stepping stone leaves a bitter feeling in my mouth.

Though time wasn't on our side, I know why it has come to this. There was nothing more that I wanted than for this to work and continue to be yours. Although this hurts so deeply, it's a different kind of pain. I find myself still wishing you the best but hating the fact that I feel so empty. No amount of words or distractions can heal this process. We’ve grown so much to be the individuals we’ve become today; we couldn’t have done it without each other. I wanted to flow with you, but it seems to be that time here has met. As we go about our days, it still feels like something is missing. You see, nostalgia is a funny thing; it makes things seem so perfect and unattainable, like Don Draper in "Mad Men" had said,

“Nostalgia - it's delicate, but potent. Teddy told me that in Greek, "nostalgia" literally means "the pain from an old wound." It's a twinge in your heart far more powerful than memory alone. This device isn't a spaceship, it's a time machine. It goes backwards and forwards...it takes us to a place where we ache to go again. It's not called the wheel; it's called the carousel. It let's us travel the way a child travels - around and around, and back home again, to a place where we know are loved.”

- Remember me.