“Because I don’t know…”
And then it would stop. Like it was the ending of a novel that would urge a reader to put the date of the sequel being in stores on a countdown calendar. Even my friends don’t know who it was because I didn’t talk to him after. I felt so bad. I wanted to know so badly. I tried so hard at first where I would get migraines trying to figure it out, but from going through my old yearbooks to walking to the exact same spot, it was hopeless.
I have come to the point where I will remember the certain things such as scenery, time of day, or what I did, but I would not remember who I was with, like the group I was with at the beach or the boy I was laughing with in the hall. I think it’s because the triggers are getting stronger as I am getting older. Like when I’m in the mall and I pass by the scents of pretzels and remember what I ate one day (that weren’t even pretzels) or when I walk through the clothing isle and see a certain type of clothing and remember what one person wore. It gets better with time I guess, as many would