I don’t think about you much anymore.
I don’t think about the first time we met. You were in that coffee shop that sells lavender chai, sitting in that brown leather chair no one ever sat in, and you were staring at that little sketchbook of yours with this look like you were carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.
I don’t think about how I felt like all I needed to do in that moment was make you smile or laugh. I guess I did a pretty good job because you laughed, and you smiled. I couldn’t help but melt right when I heard your laugh and saw your smile.
I don’t think about our first date and how nervous I was when I reached for your hand. I don’t think about how a few dates later we shared our first kiss at the end of that haunted house maze. You were shaking, but the moment we kissed, it was like your body relaxed and fell in rhythm with mine. Your lips oddly tasted of peanut butter cups that night.
I don’t think about all the drives we took, and the songs you played on repeat like John Mayer’s Stop This Train. We’d drive for hours and you’d leave your window open to let the wind rush through your hair and so you could sing to the outside world. You always sang. It was one of my favorite things about you.
I don’t think about the walks we took in the middle of the night. We would head over to that cute little neighborhood by UCLA so we could walk around and look at all the houses, imagining ourselves living in one of those houses with a red door and a tree swing.
I don’t think of when you’d come over after having a really long day. All you wanted to do was watch Netflix and snack on everything possible. We always did, but only after I got you to dance with me – usually a slow dance.
I don’t think about how one day, I noticed the look in your eyes changed. It lost its flame, and I was no longer your spark.
I don’t think about how you talked less and less about the weird dreams you’d have. We stopped trying to figure out what they meant. We actually didn’t really talk much about anything at that point.
I don’t think about how we didn’t do anything anymore. We didn’t go for drives. We didn’t find new places to eat at. We didn’t listen to new music. We were done with our adventures.
I don’t think about how you said you didn’t love me anymore.
You were crying because you said you wanted to love me the same way I loved you, but you just couldn’t.
You expected me to hate you. You expected me to yell at you and hurt you. I don’t think about how I thought you knew me better than that and how I would never do that.
I guess I lied when I said I don’t think about you much anymore. I do think about you, but only when something reminds me of you.
I do think about you, but thing is – it doesn’t hurt anymore when I think about you. It doesn’t hurt when I think of everything that happened between us, and that makes me feel good.
I guess what I should really say is – I don’t miss you anymore, and for me, I think that’s the closure that I needed.