The Memories


Having an eidetic memory may seem like a blessing, especially to those who struggle to remember things. In some ways, I am very fortunate. I memorized the presidents in order one day, just because I felt like it. I memorized the Greek alphabet because I was bored. I remember my locker combination from fifth grade and my schedule from every semester of high school. I remember what rooms all my college my classes were in, and what time they were at. I can remember where I sat in all my classes from high school and college. I remember what I wore for every first day of class, as well as several other mundane days. But every silver lining is surrounded by a cloud. Having an eidetic memory isn’t always an asset; it can be a curse.

I can remember the day we first met and the morning after. I can remember the night he walked me across campus, because someone had grabbed me and scared me. I remember how he helped me through my first college anxiety attack, and how he was the first person I told when I scored a try for the first time. I can remember the first day he texted me that started it all, and exactly what it said. I can remember every conversation that made my heart flutter and my stomach flip word for word. I remember that the first big fight we had was on a Monday, and I had a job interview. I remember what I was wearing the first night I went to his house, and every night we spent together after that. I remember what we talked about and what we did on all ten nights I went to his house and what I wore the days he said the sweetest things I had ever heard. I remember him asking if I was okay after an injury, while I was riding in the car. I remember every time he made my cry, but also every time he made me feel safe. I remember all the times he told me I was pretty, but also the time he told me I didn’t need makeup to look good. I remember him telling me I was prettier when I smiled, and when he offered to pick me up when I was afraid. I remember everything that happened with us in that short period of time. I remember that at this time last year, I was texting him every single day, because the first day I went without talking to him was April 4th.

Getting over someone is so much harder when you remember every time he made you laugh, made you cry, made you smile, and made you feel like something might be there. When you remember texts word for word, from the first to the last. It can make you ache for them times that remain clear as day inside your head. Ache to be back in the arms that you can still feel around you. Ache to listen his heartbeat the way you used to. Ache to have someone to talk to again. Because when something happens, good or bad, he’s still the first person you want to tell, but then you remember you can’t and you feel like your heart is breaking all over again. You ache because no matter how much you wish you could forget all of it, you know you never will. But the worst part? It isn’t him you miss at all. It’s the feeling of being wanted that you miss. It’s the thought that someone was choosing you that you can’t move on from. It’s the person you were with him, because that was a happiness like no other. But most of all, it’s not you that I miss so desperately; it’s the you I spend so much time building in my head.  


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