Misconceptions

bittersweet

I passed by your neighborhood today. I didn't want to but it wasn't up to me. I wasn't driving.

I felt sadness come over me as I recognized the long road before reaching the entrance to where you live and I wondered if maybe I'd see you while I was there.

After all, you've always liked walking around there. I have to admit, I feared I would because seeing you again would just make me mad once more, just like the last time.

However, I couldn't help but feel nostalgic as we drove by. All the flashbacks coming down on me like heavy raindrops. That street was filled with memories. I stared out the window, my heart heavy in my chest, remembering our crazy car rides filled with laughter, and the silent moments we shared—the tension in the dark as you would stop at your driveway and stare at me with that look that could melt.

A small, sad smile formed on my lips as I also thought about the first time I was there—at your neighborhood, that is. It was quite funny. I knocked at your door and, when you opened, I found myself staring straight at your chest. I had forgotten you had gotten a lot taller. I looked up at you and you smiled at me.

"Alright, let's do this," you said, stuffing your hands in the pockets of your grey sweatpants and walking over to my car.

You frowned when you saw my dad in the driver's seat. I let out a light laugh, finding the whole situation amusing. He made me sit in the front, not wanting his daughter next to her cute, best guy friend. You just shook your head playfully at this as you quietly sat in the back, forced to sit with my other friends.

We were so young—me being fifteen and you only fourteen years old. In that moment, we never imagined what life had planned for us. We hadn't experienced disaster yet. All we knew was the calm, warm summer breeze and sunny days.

Oh, but how things changed.

Now, we were nothing but old memories in each other's minds. Nothing to do with them except reminisce.

I didn't see you as we drove by.