Why is it that the thought of you still comes with a bitter sting? I think it’s ‘cause there’s a part of me that still hopes that in my parting I have afflicted enough pain to leave a lasting impression that echoes throughout your life. It’s hard not to regard the past with bitterness, since so much of it was eclipsed by you. I cannot easily disregard you, because your touch is mirrored in my cynicism and insecurities. It is inevitable to be pricked every now and then by a word, thought, or song of some sort that can be associated with you, and when I am brought back to the thought of you, I’m flooded with contempt and regret (no longer in the form of burning but that of a muted, persistent ache). I wonder if you feel the same. I wonder if anything I’ve ever done or been has made my absence a scarring memory. I feel as though I leave everyone who hurt me unscathed.