3 AM Heartbreak

Remember To Forget.

It's sort of sad, I think to myself as I pack up my memories of him into a box.
I look at all the pictures of him.
He's smiling at me and I can't help but smile back at him one last time.
I look at the list of plans we had.
We won't live together in college.
We won't be able to do any of the things we wanted to.
Like go to the Grand Canyon together.
I take that list of plans and put them in the box that holds all of the pictures.
I find old notebooks of writings about him.
Writings of my thankfulness for him.
Writings of how unfair it is that we can't be together.
Writings of how in love with him I am.
Writings of how scared I am to lose him.
I run my fingers along the words before tearing the notebooks apart, throwing them in the trash.
I find some old audio tapes, I decide to listen to them.
He spoke of how much he loved me and didn't want to let me go.
He told me a story of a Meerkat name Melissa one night when I couldn't sleep.
He told me of how school and work was going for him.
I could hear his breathing when he would fall asleep on the phone with me.
I heard him say I love you again and I couldn't help but whisper it back to him one last time.
I put the audio tapes in a chest with a lock, throwing the key in along with the tapes.
I look at the walls of the attic I'm in, suddenly everything in it seems terrifying so I go back to the main floor.
There's a copy of "The Fault in Our Stars" on the steps.
There's a broken record playing.
The flowers are all dead, the grass is brown, the swing set where children should be playing is creaking and falling apart.
I think of what the yard once looked like, green grass. Flowers that weren't yet wilted and withered.
The house doesn't seem as homely.
It's cold and uncomfortable.
No one should live in a house like this.
I find some matches.
I set the curtains on fire first, then the couches, and then the bed that no longer serves a purpose of a place of rest for two people.
When I go outside I watch the house burn along with all of the things inside.
I remind myself that I can burn these things.
I can get rid of everything that reminds me of him.
But I have to remember to forget.
So I make a list to myself.
Remember to forget what he looks like.
Remember to Forget what his voice sounded like at 3 AM.
Remember to forget the promises he broke.
Remember to forget all the I love yous.
Remember to forget what he looked like when he smiled.
Remember to forget the butterflies I got whenever I heard his voice.
Remember to forget that he said he'd always be there to talk to.
Remember to forget how he liked talking about holding me.
Remember to forget that I loved him.
Remember to forget everything.
Remember to forget him.