I remember how you hated buying period supplies with me and how you stayed one aisle away from me the entire time. I remember cuddling in the back of your car, which always led to us kissing, followed by long talks. I remember talking about nothing in particular, but always talking. I remember the early morning phone calls and how groggy you were. I remember late night phone conversations and how we’d almost be falling asleep when we hung up. I remember you calling me cute every day, even if I had just hiccuped. I remember me falling asleep next to you countless times. I remember how our hands were always touching. I remember almost everything you ever told me. I remember you. I remember you and I hate how much I remember because it just hurts. It hurts because all I have are these memories and I don’t have you. I don’t have you because I made a choice. I’ll stand by the choice I made, but. But when it’s close to 3am and I’m sobbing into my pillow, telling myself that I’ll be okay, that’s when I remember.