I tried not to care about you, I really did--and I even thought I don't anymore. Until I stay up all night worrying about you. I know not having you in my life is better for me; I know not seeing you at all is better for me; I know you're nothing like someone I would want to spend time with. But I do.

Things kept rushing through my head all night. There were these confirmations echoing in the back of my mind--confirming that I don't care anymore, that I am okay with you not being here, that it's fine for you to not being in my life at all. They gradually became questions; questions that made me think a whole lot about what I want in life. I still don't think I want you. But I know I miss you.

I'm going to have a long day tomorrow.

I'm going to be hanging on to a thread tomorrow.

I'm going to start my first day in two years with you being a stranger.

I can do it. I ought to. For my own sake.

I promised myself I wouldn't cry because of you anymore.

I won't.

I won't...

I'm not crying. There is just something in my eyes.

My attempt to color the memories.

I miss the days when we were together, not as in being committed in a relationship but as in being physically next to each other. Even though that was only a brief instant, it was filled with so much frivolous fun and youthful excitement. There was so many things I can recall about us. What happened almost two years ago seems so vividly as if it had just happened yesterday--maybe because not a single day goes by that I don't wish to relive those days with you?

I remember exactly the perky way you pretended to carelessly put your arms around me, and the strange way that we lied taking a nap with your puppy. I guess somewhere along those lines, I became a fool, holding so dear to my heart the simple little things that meant nothing to you.

We didn't make history like I had wanted us to--we couldn't have made it last anyways. I desolately colored the empty memories we had with such vibrant colors and abounding hopes only to find out that the colors were too quickly achromatized and the hopes too subtly vaporized. You moved on, as swiftly as you always do; and I stayed behind.