Every time I clean my room, I stumble upon that shoe box that holds memories of last year. I always say that I'm going to throw it out but I can't ever bring myself in doing so. Instead, I merely hide it in another corner of my room until I dig it out under the layer of dust in a few months time.
I don't love him.
I know that much. But how do I explain it? He was someone that was important to me in that brief time spent together. He made me happy. Even though those smiles were laced with tears; he did make me happy. Even now when we walk pass each other on the streets, we pretend that last year never happened but in my eyes I can still picture him in my room. Because of those sweet memories, I can't bear to chuck the box away like trash. But I can't stand looking at it's contents either.
We are strangers now.
I was the one who decided that he wasn't The One.
And he was the one who decided that I was a Bitch.
Those love notes piled in the shoe box are meaningless now.
So why can't I bring myself to throw them out?
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