“There’s always something to remind you of her.

            “The song playing on the radio. Her favorite drink on the menu. The faint smell of her perfume. Her scarf amidst your clothes. The feeling of her palm against yours. Or how reassuring and comforting her hugs and kisses were.

            “No matter how hard you try to erase those memories, erase her, from everything and everyone; there’s nothing you could do. Because somewhere, she is existing.

            “In that little corner of your mind you call regret. She is there.”

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09-29-14

Today, I saw her at the cafe. She was holding hands with him.

How fitting, I thought, as I sipped my black coffee. A bitter drink for a bitter day. She was so happy, so perfect, just sitting there with her favorite latte.

I could’ve bought her that. I could have been the one to tell that joke that she was laughing at. I could’ve been the one there, brushing her hair at the back of her ear. I could’ve been the one holding her hand.

I could have been—

We should have been.

 

She looked at me. I didn’t look back.

I can’t look back.

 

 

09-29-14

            He was there. At the cafe, sipping his black coffee and a book at his hands.

            I recommended that book to him, I remember. Told him it was the best I’ve ever read, how genius and cunning Christie was. He laughed at me and he said how morbid I was to like books like this. I pouted and pretended to be mad, and he whispered ‘but that just makes me love you more’

            We were so happy. So perfect.

            I looked at him. He averted his gaze.

 

            No, not yet.

--

 

09-15-14

            I realized she left her scarf at my house, the pink one that still smells like her.

            I tried to throw it away, but ended up staring at the corner of my kitchen.

            I miss her. I just realized that.

 

09-15-14

            Today I met him.

            He was nice, nice teeth, nice smile. No wonder Jackie wanted me to meet him, he was a gentleman. He even bought me dinner. Now I think blind dates aren’t always bogus men in pretentious clothes.

            I gave him my number, I hope he calls.

            The phone is ringing.

--

 

09-10-10

 

            I finally gave my number to that cute barista. I’ve never been so nervous and embarassed in my entire life, spilling my black coffee everywhere just all limbs and stuttering. Half of the time I didn’t even know what I was saying.

            But her laugh on the phone. The hot coffee down my pants was worth it.

 

09-10-10

            His name is Kris.

            His name is Kris.

            His name is Kris.

           

            I like his name.

 

09-15-10

            Her name is Amber. She works part time at the coffee shop near my dormitory, but she’s a graduating accounting major. She likes Sunday mornings and accoustic music, and her favorite song is Banana Pancakes. She sleeps early and wakes up late, and she has an irresistable affinity for cats.

            She’s just an ordinary girl, with a pretty mundane life, but her smile could change history and her laugh could warrant wars. She is her, simply, inevitable and irrevocably her.

            I think—

            I think.

 

09-16-10

            His name is Kris. He lives at the dormitory next to the coffee shop I work at, and he’s a lawyer in the making. He lives off pancakes and bacon, drinks black coffee daily, and reads the newspaper just so he’d seem cool. He wears contacts because he thinks glasses make his nose seem big, but really, it’s the cutest thing you’ll ever see. He is a closet cook and loves making pasta for dinner, and has a bunny named Fanfan who he snuggles every night.

            He is special, has the strongest sense of justice and had the most embarassing moment of his life trying to impress me.

            That’s what makes him perfect. He is, isn’t he?

 

04-04-11

            Today I bought her flowers and chocolates. She said it was overtly cliche and not really her style. When my face openly fell, I heard her laugh and—

            I think I’m in love with her.

 

04-04-11

            I should kiss him.

            Should I? Shouldn’t I?

            Why shouldn’t I?

 

04-04-11

            I think—

            I think she kissed me.

            I think—No.

 

            I am in love with her.

--

 

11-26-13

            I broke up with her today.

            It’s not really sad, not really. Just; empty.

            On my way home all I thought about was how this is the best for the both of us. We were holding each other back; yes, that’s it. All we did was fight, annoy each other. In the end, it ended up being bad for us.

            Yes, that’s it. This is for the best.

 

11-26-13

            Today, he broke up with me.

            This is just a dream. I really hope this is just a dream.

 

12-02-13

            I cleaned up my desk today.

            One picture at a time, they said. One picture gone from my cork bord, one momento from my shelf, one memory to stash away.

 

12-02-13

            I stayed in my bed, waiting.

            For a phone call, a text message, just any sign that he is thinking about me too. Anything.

            Please. Please. Please. Anything.

            I ended up listening to his old voice mails on repeat.

 

12-24-13

            That Christmas Eve party was awesome.

            The beer was exceptional, it’s nice catching up with friends, just having a great time.

 

12-24-13

            Merry Christmas, I wrote at the corner of the gift box. It was supposed to be a gift for him. He was supposed to cook dinner for me tonight, we were supposed to exchange gifts and kisses and all that crap.

            So this is how break-ups go, huh? This time, it’s really real.

We broke up.

 

02-14-14

            Wow, it’s Valentine’s Day. How time flies by so fast.

            I smiled at that girl from my office, she’s cute when she blushes. I greeted her and she greeted me back.

            It was nice.

 

02-14-14

            Today is Valentine’s Day.

            It’s hard, but I think I could get by. I drank soju with Jackie, and while she sputtered out rated R things at me, I realized something.

            This is it.

            I’m deleting his voice mails

--

 

10-04-14

            She’s here at my door step.

            I think—

            I think.

 

10-04-14

            I’m here.

            I ended up taking the taxi and knocking on his door. I don’t even know why I’m here. Closure? Maybe. Maybe not. Everything’s just so confusing.

            Is it supposed to be?

           

10-04-14

            Today she broke my heart.

            All I could do was laugh. How ironic, I thought. A year, her showing up at my house, and six little words. That’s what it took me just to realize it.

            We broke up.

 

            Now, I can look back.

 

10-04-14

            Closure, was that it? Yes, I think so.

            A year. A year of crying, regretting, missing; of moving on. A year of what ifs and why’s. A year. And all it took was ‘I am in love with him’, uttered beneath steams of hot tea.

 

            Yes, finally. This is it.

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            “But the thing about regret is, it will always be there. No amount of forgetting or convincing or plain arguments could erase that little monster living inside you, and sooner or later you’ll just have to face the music.

            “The realization, or rather the fact, that she’s gone. She’s just gone.

            “And the songs, her favorite drink, her perfume, her mementos, the memory of her hands and hugs and kisses; they will always be there. All you’ll have to do is plainly live with it.

            “It will be hard, no body ever said it was easy. On the first parts you will stumble, fall even, but you’ll learn. You’ll learn to get up, dust it off, and move on. Then one day, you’ll just realize it, in an epiphany or a eureka moment, that all the cliche things were true.

            “That meeting her, and even losing her; it will all be worth it.”

.fin