As I sit in a cubicle in the midst of the same city our memories came to life in, I compose myself. Even though the recollection of you stains my mind and the forefront of my thoughts always seem to run to you, I compose myself. The memories are no longer simplified to the moments of pure bliss and with you, there’s no longer any wonder to grasp onto. There is no longer any rose colored mirage of what never was. If it was meant to be, it wouldn’t be this way.
If it was ever meant to happen, it should have never been. Oh how I wish to erase you from my time. I wish our lines never collided at all because you, my friend, were one of my many downfalls and now, I have to rise again. Things always get messy when people pretend.
Photo by Andrew Neel on Unsplash
