The name I used to scribble on my notebooks.
The name I’d wished to see on the Online list.
The name I’d wished the new text message was from.
I know it’s been almost 5 years. Since we knew each other. Since we first talked. Since it all began.
And after what seemed like an eventful 4 years journey, I finally got over you. I finally moved on — or at least that’s what I thought.
I’m afraid all those years I’ve invested on you have now altered my view on life entirely. I thought I was over you. And the idea of us. Maybe I am. I can’t really tell.
But what I do know is that whenever I speak of love, or even think about it, the one constant thing that pops in my head is You. And the story of us.
I know we’re just an old story. Ancient, even. 5 years ago. When we were still practically kids. But I can’t help to dwell on it, everytime I even think of dating, or even meeting someone new.
I can’t help to compare them to you. And it seems that you win against each and every one of them, everytime.
The way you talk. Your awful puns. Your dumb jokes. The way we talked endlessly about books and movies. The way we tease each other like little children over everyday things. The way my heart felt everytime I see you. The time we almost talked on the phone. The time we almost went out for a movie. The time I almost told you how I felt about you.
How we almost got together.
But we didn’t.
Instead, we drifted apart.
And every now and then, I still check up on you.
And I see you happy. So I back away.
Maybe I haven’t moved on. Almost. But not fully there yet.
Till then, I hope you remember me too. In a good way. In a way that doesn’t disturb you. Because a disturbance is the last thing I want to be to you.