I have the memories stored in my brain like a time capsule that won’t ever turn off. But, little by little and day by day, I’m still forgetting what it felt like. I’m forgetting the sensations, the emotions, the knocking on my heart.
I’m forgetting the little things that used to make me glow. I’m forgetting the way my hands felt safe in someone else’s palms. I’m forgetting the way my arms and shoulders relaxed when I leaned into him. I’m forgetting how it felt to kiss someone you love and feel time completely stop. I’m forgetting all the tiny details that I used to adore. Like when he put my hands in his pocket. Or when he first told me he had a crush on me.
What did it feel like? What did it feel like, to be so safe? To be so carefree and relaxed. What did it feel like to be me at seventeen?
Because I’m twenty-four and my hands haven’t been held in so long. I’m twenty-four and I can’t remember the last time I had the privilege of falling into someone’s arms, not being afraid of anything. I can’t remember what it feels like to kiss someone so softly it feels like a whisper of ‘I love you’.
I don’t remember it. I can think about it. I can think back to it, but I can’t feel it anymore. But I want to. I want to feel it right now. I want to remember all of it. But I only remember snippets. I only remember the big moments, not the tiny perfect little ones.
I forget what it feels like to fall asleep next to someone who adores me just as I adore them. I forget what it feels like to feel so confident in someone else. To be so confident in love. To be so confident and to be so convinced that love can conquer all.
I don’t remember what it feels like to believe in happy endings. To believe in the storybook ending that everyone hopes and prays for. What did that feel like? Was I that person? That person who was so sickly in love it made people stop and stare when I walked pass them on the sidewalk? Did he and I look like that?
I don’t remember that version of me. The version of me that smiled from ear to ear. The version of me that had no anxiety. The version of me that looked at him and felt my heart skip a beat. The version of me that truly, truly, knew what love as. The version of me that knew that big love could actually happen to someone like me.
People say love never leaves you. People say love is supposed to last forever. But what happens when it starts to fade? What happens when you don’t remember anymore? What happens when you start to forget?
I don’t want to forget the little things. I don’t want to forget anything about his love. But here I am, feeling like I blacked out three years of my life.