switch | flashback fiction

of all the things I want to say to you,
mostly, it's...

I hate that someone like you would end up blanking out on me.

I still feel you. you’re still here, you know.

sometimes, I feel like letting my hair get messy not because I know it's what I do that pisses you most, but because I like how you always brush them clean.
.
.
.
except now that they stay here, messy maybe permanently.

sometimes, I feel like holding my own hand because I just can’t stand feeling this echo between my fingers.

sometimes, I feel like I’m talking to the you I fell in love with. that you at the beginning of it all. all before it unfolded itself as a powerstruggle.

sometimes, I wish I could say it doesn't hurt anymore; that these tears symbolize those rotten, stale leftovers from the break.
.
.
.
that I forgot you.

it hurts, this love.

does that possibility, that you know I feel you, even exist?

genuinely, I can smile again, which, in my part, is good. laughter at times even. I can finally hear the birds chirping again. and yet, the ghost of the 'us' that once existed is still foreshadowing the 'me' that shouldve made its grand debut.

I knew, risked even, going into it, realizing love is painful. if it even exists, it will be able to hurt and bruise and crush in a single misstep when manhandled.

I know you warned me. you warned me the chance of hurt is high, because you’re human.
.
.
.
then again, that promise you made.

i told you not to promise anything because nobody ever knows life. yet, you promised. you’d do everything within your power to soothe my hurt, and some other bullcrap you threw on me.

it hurts, this love.
.
.
.
and here you are.
merely here, enough to sting a reminder that you’re ever unreachable.



                   "
                   I can't remember when it was good,
                   moments of happiness elude;
                   maybe I just misunderstood.
                   all of the love we left behind;
                   watching the flash backs intertwine;
                   memories I will never find.
                   so I'll love whatever you become,
                   and forget the reckless things we've done;
                   I think our lives have just begun,
                   I think our lives have just begun.
                   "