I find it funny how I sat there, holding on to something that was never even mine. Sweet, blissful memories that I had made myself believe were more then anything I'd ever wanted, ever needed. Its funny to me how manipulative I can be, even when it comes down to myself. My strong, vivid personality was completely destroyed by a simple goodbye, but it was all that I needed to send myself spiraling into a world of unknown darkness. Into a heartbreak that took me much longer then I would have ever expected to fix. Something about him, about us, just made me want to hold on, and I wasn't ready to let go, nor did I want too. I had misguiding hope. Hope that I have now let go of, hope that left me along with the heartache. I picked up every piece, except for the piece thats his. Because I know that as long as I have memories to hold onto, he'll have a piece of me to hold onto. A piece of me that he's long forgotten about...A piece of me that'll always nudge the corners of my mind.