I keep your handwritten notes.

Our photobooth strips from the night we met and every magical night after.

I safekeep our score card from when I beat you in mini golf, and your hands teasingly touched my waist.

I keep the stuffed animal you won for me after you wasted countless dollars on the arcade claw machine just so I could end the night with something to remind me of us.

I re-watch the movies we saw together… replay all the songs that I listened to when you were mine.

So many mementos that I can’t get myself to part with.

I’d rather lose myself to the agony of our memories than lose the thought of us completely.

It’s not because I miss you… I miss us.

The feeling like we were the only two people in the world.

Maybe I can’t help reminding myself that I was once all you thought about. The one you texted first thing in the morning and the last one before you called it a night.

Maybe it’s the way you cared for me when I was sick or the way you selflessly massaged my back just to make me feel at peace.

Or maybe it’s the flowers you surprised me with or the ChapStick we shared just to taste each other’s lips.

Or your jacket you wrapped around my shoulders when you noticed my goosebumps.

Or your oversized sweatshirts I’d wear every night just to remind myself of how you smelled.

The Malibu we sipped as we blissfully stumbled through the city on that warm summer night.

Maybe its the late night car rides filled with slow R&B and love. Hand in hand, my arms wrapped around yours while you drove just so I could feel closer to you. That kind of intimacy and euphoria that only exists in movies.

Maybe it was our special ice cream outings, sharing our deepest thoughts to end the night after a long day.

Or the way you wrapped your arms around me when you noticed tears in my eyes.

Or the way you reassured me that you would always be there for me… showing up for me in all the ways that I’ve been deprived of.

Or the way you kissed me like you couldn’t get enough of me. Holding each other so tightly as if we’d melt into one.

The way your body went limp as you drifted off to sleep beside me.

The way you woke up in the middle of the night just to remind yourself to hold me.

The way you held my hand and pulled me close, massaging your fingers through my hair and my scalp as I laid my head in your lap.

The way you noticed me.

The way you chose me.

I’m not stuck on you. I’m stuck on the way you came into my life and made me feel like I was finally seen. Seen for me… not for my looks, but for my soul.

You’ve seen the most vulnerable layers of what makes me who I am. My deepest fears and desires, every insecurity, the things that both sadden and light up my soul.

Through all my sadness and longing, you chose me… and everything in me wants to move on like a normal person, but I have scars.

Scars from never being chosen. Never being seen. Scars from never being anyone’s first choice. Scars of feeling neglected and disregarded. Scars of chasing people who never reciprocated the effort I poured into them.

But your reassurance, the way you genuinely looked at me and remembered all the details made me finally feel safe enough to open up… to share every vulnerable part of me… allow you to see my heart and soul…

After all this, how can I let you go?

Because with every vulnerable moment, a piece of my heart was given to you… whether you cherished it or not.

What remains is a shattered heart, a sad soul, hesitant to do it all over again.

With nothing left but to cling to our old mementos that were an exchange for all the tiny pieces of me I gave to you.  

~ Alexandria Bullen

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