The worst part is how much I remember about you. I remember all the little things that you made you who you are: your middle name, the color of your eyes, that goofy half smile you would do when I said something funny but you tried to pretend it wasn't, and your insecurities. I remember all the things you told me: about your family, your life, and what you like to do. I even remember locations: where I was when you first told me you liked me, when your first held my hand and where I was when you decided you didn't want to be with me anymore. I remember it all and maybe that's why I can never truly move on, because I can't forget how good things were for a year you cared about me.
