I’ve changed. I’m not that same girl I used to be.

You’ve changed, or so you say.

I don’t look the same. I lost some weight, grew a thicker skin.

You don’t look the same. Your hair is longer, your smile more vindictive than before.

I got involved in things I couldn’t of even dreamed of doing when I was with you.

You got involved in things I would never want to be associated with.

I kept my promise. I’ve held onto your secrets, I’ve supported you without a second thought.

You kept your promise. You wouldn’t be here by the time May rolled around, you wouldn’t be here at all.

Memories can be like a form of torture.They are like parts of a movie playing back in your mind — except you’re in them, you have an emotional development and attachment to them. That’s why you didn’t forget them, anyways. You can’t forget them, you don’t want to. They just replay on a loop, over and over, making you cringe and your heart shatter every time they come around. Even though the people involved are not the same anymore, you still hold onto that small glimmer of hope that things can go back to the way they used to.

Memories can be triggered by smells. The smell of his cologne lingering on your shirt, the smell of your perfume settled on his pillow. The sweet, sweet smell of the flowers outside the doorway where you had your first kiss, or the smell coming from the candle flickering on the table top beside you two during your anniversary dinner. The smell of the other girl’s cheap alcohol kisses on your boyfriend’s neck.

Memories can be triggered by sounds. The sound of a certain band singing a certain song that transports you back to the concert you went to together. The sound of the chatter of your dorm hall mates stumbling back from a night out, while you two spent the night in bed. The sound of yourself, crying and alone from being torn to pieces too many times.

Memories show us what we had and what we have.They are reminders of what we gave up, what we lost and what we wish we would receive. We remember the good times, the times when we were at our happiest hour and loved the life we had. We remember the hysterical times, the times when we were gripping our stomachs in between laughing fits because life was so easy. We remember to forget the bad times, the times when we’d stay up crying or throwing up our feelings or hiding in the corner of our room because we felt a little too small in a room that felt a little too big. We forget the most traumatic memories, the brain does this as a form of protection — what we don’t remember won’t hurt us any longer. We forget the hard times we went through because they were so emotionally draining and have changed us as people, but we don’t want to look at what we went through ever again. We forget the most painful, most heartbreaking times because we can’t handle it. We only forget the memories that are too sick and disappointing to keep. I have no memory of you.