drafts #2

and to remember the past as if you are living it right now is enough to know that it is a gift. satan's, but atleast wrapped in my favourite ribbons.

i perform autopsies on conversations i had a long time ago. and i reread old messages of people whom i havent talked to in years when i am bored. quite expensive of a pastime if you ask me.

it's good, being the one that remembers.

you tell me once about your favourites and not so favourites and i have it etched on my heart and mind forever, if forever exists. and when you ask how do i remember that, i smile. i remember all of what you say, and what you don't, because i know what it feels like when no one does. when no one keeps track of you, you stop keeping track of yourself too. and i dont want that to happen to you, so i remember stuff. i remember all the bigs and the smalls, the goods and bads and i wonder if im doing right at the end of the day.

because living in the past is scary. treasuring everything you've ever said is scary. even more scary is knowing im the only one out of the both of us who is doing it.