I told myself I wouldn’t forget.
But as you grow old, the memories start to fade and the layers of your heart melt away as new ones replace the old.
Sometimes, we like those new layers. Sometimes, we miss the old ones, even the ones filled with scars.
I’ve started to forget my old layers and, in a sense, forgotten a part of me. Now I’m remembering.
I remember my 18-year-old rebellious phase, when I put a feather in my hair and begged my mom to let me dye my head purple.
I remember that pre-historic age in my life when I didn’t have to wear make-up, where I wasn’t obsessed with eyeliner, and where I didn’t incessantly criticize every photo of myself that got posted to Facebook.
I’m choosing to forget the ex-boyfriends, the guys who made me feel like dirt, and all those heartbreaks and burdens. I’m trying to forget, but sometimes, the scars are a reminder all in their own.
I remember my best friends, but I’m forgetting how they made me feel. That – perhaps – is the hardest truth I’m facing right now. Because in life, I’m slowly realizing that it’s the people who matter.
Some people have walked out of my life. Some people have just moved on from life as we knew it. Some people – some best friends – go to different colleges. Some people I only see in certain seasons of life.
But some people – well, some people are still here. Some people are my best friends seven years running. Some people have waded through waters I thought I would drown in. Some people sleep right above me and whisper their deepest secrets as we fall asleep. Some people bring you dark chocolate in a park when you’ve completely broken down crying. Some people drop everything for you. Some people are your unofficial big brother when your real brother moves away. Some people still love you even when you bite them in a fight. Some people love you unconditionally. Some people aren’t leaving.
I love those people.
Those beautiful, beautiful people that make me believe in so much more.