I forget why, but I remember moving my TV into the bedroom, and then back into the living room with regret and grief and sadness.... and that feeling of completion without completion; an almost emptiness of wasted time and not-quite-enough effort.
I forget the feeling of fear that took over my whole body, but I remember making a conscious choice not to say anything.
I forget what changed, but I remember needing to say something eventually.
I forget when I stopped sleeping, but I remember feeling shocked that I fell asleep on you... I remember you saying "babe, we've long since crossed that bridge," making me forget that what we weren't.
I forget when I stopped thinking of love as something that wasn't terrifying, but I remember not eating for a week or more, missing you every day.
I forget when I stopped thinking I deserved love, but I remember feeling like I was too much, too little, and just plain off, all at once.
I forget what it felt like to feel safe in your arms, but I remember that booming screaming quiet anger that pushed me over the edge.
I forget why I am terrified of that, but I remember feeling like a 5 year old girl; feeling somewhat sad for her, and somewhat sad for the 12 year old you lashing out... and the knowledge that the whole cycle seemed almost inevitable...
I forget if I ever had any hope for this, but I remember feeling both liberated and devastated by the ending rituals...
I forget if I have felt like this before, but I remember this knowledge like it were the word agridulce tattooed on my right hand.