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Reminiscent.

I stay reminiscing on how things used to be. And it’s not that I miss him or want him back. I really don’t have anything better to do. I look back on what I thought was love, and what I thought was the best feeling in the world. Looking back on it as a whole I can see how wrong I was. But who can see clearly in the mist of the deceit?

Now, I feel like it was more the feeling of having someone there than it was love. Actually, I think that’s a fact. Yeah at the time I thought I was floating on cloud nine, and it was just me and him against the world. I liked that, and now I know why, because it was “me and him” and not myself.

Deep down though, in the pit of my stomach and bottom of my heart, I knew there was something wrong. From the moment he barged into my little hut of contentment I called life, I knew he was trouble. That’s what reeled me in. I wanted to save him, change him, but now I realize that’s not my job. My conscious tried to pull me away before I got in too deep. But, the warmth of someone else wrapped around you, the comfort of a sleepy voice on the other end of the phone, and the spine tingling of a kiss on the forehead can really do something to someone like me.

Even with all those short-lived, blissful moments the truth was still ever present in my heart. The sense of security, and knowing that he was mine and only mine was never there. He could have his arms wrapped around me and whisper sweet nothings in my ear until the cows came home and I’d still have that emptiness. I’d still be haunted by the fear of another girl, possibly a new fling or an ex, swooping in and taking him from around me. We could only have been apart for mere minutes and I’d have the feeling that I wasn’t truly his.

In the end I was right. My heart and gut didn’t fail me, which they never do when they’re in agreement. He was gone, and eventually I got over it. He still runs through my mind from time to time. I catch myself drowned in thoughts of him too, but it’s nothing like it used to be at least. I don’t think it was love, and I could be wrong. But I can’t get over not being able to save him. I can’t let go of not being the one to help him be who he wants to be, help him see his full potential. I guess that’s why I still can’t
breathe when I see him.

I stay reminiscing, but not because I miss him or want him back, because I want to know what I could’ve done different. What could I have changed? But I guess we can’t save everybody.