You erased me. Entirely, you vanished me from your life, as if I were just a passing stranger, another face on the bus, another person without another thought, and I wish I knew your techniques. How do you do it. How did you do it. How do you go back to the places where we made all those memories with a straight face and a clear conscience? How did you turn your back on me and face another human without ever saying my name again? How did it not hurt? If I had one last thing to ask of you, it would be to teach me. Teach me how to forget. Teach me how to sleep at night and not remember every beautiful and stupid thing we ever did together. Teach my brain how to stop screaming your name, because all I want to do is forget. I want to forget all the horrible things you said. I want to forget the back of your head as I watched you leave my driveway. I want to forget where you live. I want to forget your voice, your eyes, your laugh, your face. But inside, not even too deep, I know I don’t want to forget. I valued you too much. I still do, and maybe that’s what makes us so different. Maybe I learned how to value humans, and maybe you still haven’t.
Learn how to treat humans -Katey Chrest (via thinly)
