i am trying to write more.

it's this thing i'm trying to do.
i have a bad memory. and i'm...i'm a feeler.
so there's a lot to get out.

but every time i pick up my pen to finish my story about you
(because it's like i can't move on until i cover that)
(feels like i'm living 3 months ago and feeling everything fresh every day for at least a couple seconds, minutes)
(so i have to write it down, get through it)
there's 3 or so blank pages
just watching me.
every day.
waiting
anticipating
the story of you and us and
everything we've ever been,
which may have been nothing and it may have been everything i felt at the time.
no, it was something. it was a lot.


i just can't.

it's just too hard to write anything down.

once,
while writing,
when starting this story,
(which is my life and not a fairy tale which also
complicates things),
i opened up my phone to scroll through and find out what date something was.
i wanted to remember that date, that memory.
and i only knew from our texts.
so then i'm trying to find it and of course
i'm eventually reading all our texts. and i'm just laughing and crying at the same time
because now
going back through it all
i can see it all so clearly.
it's so obvious, when you started to slip away
but back then
i was laughing more than i ever had
and feeling more perfectly fine than i had in years
because you unknowingly helped me see the simple joy in so much
and helped me believe in my own beauty again.


i can't write
because i feel so much love for you
still.
god damn.
so much love is in there
that it actually hurts from the inside,
and it's trapped with no where to go..
restricted by that elastic cord that's keeping my journal shut.


all i want to be able to do is
look back
at these
memories
a few years down the road
when i am older, wiser, and over it,
and smile
at the recollection of your laugh and your smell and that moment in the dark,
and the way our first kiss felt.

i can't write it and close the book
because it's not over.

it can't be over.