When I Remember You, I’ll Remember The Love We Had

I was always afraid of writing about you, because I’m afraid my choice of words will not give justice to how beautiful things were. I didn’t want to ruin what was real, but if I’ll be asked about our story, my perception and version will be like this:

We were genuinely happy, and love was all around. Everybody could see that. And even if they couldn’t, we were sure it was present. For the first time in a really long time, I felt genuine happiness. You gave me something not anybody else could give, not even the people I was with before you. I didn’t think I could be that happy, until you showed me. I was so afraid of losing that kind of happiness that I always pictured it ending sooner than it would have. Feeding myself with negative thoughts wasn’t helping in any way. I didn’t want to lose people in my life anymore that I did terrible things because I was being impulsive, until I lost someone, again. And that someone had to be you.

I don’t know the reason why we stopped seeing each other, I just assume I do, because my faults and all my shortcomings were becoming visible each and every day as I start to realize and reflect on the person I’ve become. Know that when I told you I love you, I meant every word every day. I just didn’t have enough good ways of showing it. I was so full of myself that I made every argument feel like it was all about me. I always wanted to be right, even if I wasn’t. Proving my point was more important than the two of us being okay. I had very poor choice of words that I attacked you with whenever my anger triggered and I never realized they hurt until it was too late. Accepting my mistakes wasn’t essential at that time, so the reconciliation always comes from your side. Whenever I felt like I had to tell you I was sorry, pride got in the way. I was draining, rather than motivating. And I can never blame you for calling it quits. I see myself as an appreciative person, but with you I always wanted more, without realizing that I had it all.

It’s not that I took things for granted. It’s not that I didn’t deserve to be happy. It’s just that I knew that I had something good, but I didn’t take good care of it. I let it slip away. Remembering you becomes unbearable because I don’t have a choice but remember how good of a person you were, and that I am no longer with you. That is why I choose to remember you this way.

I’ll remember you when I watch the movies I’ve seen with you before, because even if some of the actors sucked and the plot was going nowhere, they became bearable and ten times more worth watching when I had your arms wrapped around mine. I’ll remember all those random times you’d shamelessly fart in front of me because we were that comfortable, how much you liked your food better with vinegar, and how when you’d talk about your mom, there was always light in your eyes, because it represents how genuine and pure your love is for her. I’ll remember that perky smile of yours that could make anyone’s day just by how happy it looked, paired with your laugh that was disturbing enough to always catch my attention. I’ll remember keen details of your body and how confident you were with it, because it taught me to love my own as well, even if there were lots of flaws visible. I’ll remember you and how spectacular 2013 was when I look at the people we’ve both known for a time, and the good times we all spent together for over a year. I’ll remember you when I listen to Birdy, Kodaline, or Coldplay, because all the lyrics pertain to how much I loved you. I’ll remember you like a good old Beatles song, serene and classic. Simple yet enlightening. Real and meaningful. Faded but beautiful.

This is how I’ll move on. I will forever be grateful for the times you’ve shown me honesty, genuine care and courage because you taught me how to become them. I choose not to be in a dark place. Even when the waves of missing you start occurring once in a while, I try to see every angle of it as something beautiful that happened, instead of being a wreck about it. The pain is there, but it’s the good kind. Know that when I remember you, it will be paired with a smile on my face. I’ll remember how good of a person you were and let the thought of that alone inspire me to become a good person too.

I don’t know what your version is, and I’m not sure what you remember about me, but when I remember you, I remember only the good. And I intend to keep it that way.