Remembering

I don’t remember that day very well, only the moments that stand out.

I remember leaving the house to go to class, feeling very much alone. I felt I was drifting apart from my friends who were now dating each other. We still hung out together, but I always felt like a third wheel. A fat, not-as-pretty-as-them third wheel.

I don’t remember where they were that day. I was alone, literally. I went to class anyway. I didn’t want to but I guess I felt like I had to because, what else could I do?

I remember ending up with him outside, eating street food. We talked about things that you talk about with friends you were getting to know more. It was light and silly but I appreciated it. I didn’t want to talk about things that were bothering me.

I don’t remember if he wanted to talk about things. I don’t even remember if he knew what I knew. We didn’t talk about it.

I remember he liked a girl who didn’t feel the same way about him. I liked this guy who I knew liked someone else. We both had our problems but we didn’t talk about them. We were two messed up people and I guess we just wanted someone who wouldn’t ask what was wrong.

I don’t remember who suggested it, but we ended up on a bus to my old school. We started talking about her, the girl he liked. She wanted him—no, us—to come to her house. I didn’t know what she wanted; all I knew was that she didn’t like him that way. I didn’t want him to get his hopes up. I said no.

I remember walking with him around campus, talking about everything and nothing. We sat down on a patch of grass watching girls play football. In a spot of horrible coincidence, they were screaming out his ex-girlfriend’s name, calling her out to play. He was getting flustered and I kept laughing at him. It wasn’t mean-spirited at all. I just found it amusing that this was happening.

I don’t remember if the girls were done playing by the time we decided to go home but I remember resting my head on his shoulder when I fell asleep. We came back to school where I had a meeting. He was going home.

I remember the look on his face when he was saying goodbye. He looked at me like he didn’t want to leave.

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