Final Project

The memory we had is trying to eat me inside slowly…

I realized we never knew how to cherish the things we had until we started to lose them. I feel that I am living in the past.

 My brain doesn’t have room for anything else, but him.

Calling my memory back makes me sick.

I revisited the places we went before. I was sitting there for hours and hours, thinking…thinking…

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What we had was good, and that is good enough.