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i’d consider myself lucky to be by your side, to be able to call you a friend. you weren’t exactly the most average person: and therefore, you had few friends you could claim your own.
but then, was i really lucky? was i lucky to be able to feel these things for you? was i lucky when it brought me so much pain?
arms spread-eagled over my bed with slow ballads playing from my phone was my favourite time of the day. at least, before you decided to bring me places. before you decided to try to make new memories before i lost my old ones.
i was still unsure as to why you were so desperate to spend time with me; you could have been with someone else laughing at their jokes instead of trying to make me remember who i am on a daily basis.
besides, it’s almost certain that your efforts would amount to nothing.
sorry. i turn around to say, looking up at your taller figure. i forgot your favourite food again.
you scowled and brought a hand down onto my head. stop apologising. and lasagne’s fine.
i rubbed the sore spot and sighed. okay.
i know that i am indeed lucky to have found a wonderful person like you. i am indeed lucky to know someone like you. good people are hard to find.
but, things come with a compromise, don’t they?
if i do forget you one day, perhaps, then i’d be lucky.
