we were twenty-year-old children. every thought was given life by the remembrance of you. whenever you said my name, i would hear music playing in the background. it was silly. it was magical. four years. yes, that long.

now that i think i'm more mature than i was then, i don't know why the feeling has become retroactive. though i'm not fixated anymore on finding that perfect imitation of you (you've become the unwitting benchmark), i feel that i'm waist-deep in a mire. and all i can do is look back at you.

there are countless times that i've made a fool of myself, telling you how much you mean to me. you were nice enough to thank me. i didn't need that "thank you". i didn't need it then, i don't need it now.

i wonder how you go on. then again, this sense of bewilderment is based on a tenet that i may have imagined--that i was important to you. you live a fast life now. i have always admired how you struggled to hold your fate in your own hands. you're holding the reins today. and maybe i was a part of the past that you thought you had to forget. forgetting is too easy for you. i wish it was for me.

all i can do is look back at you. and your un-remembrance of me.