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.

These will be the best memories.

All she has for keeps are these silly memories; these silly memories that she should have let go of long,long ago. The memories that keep her very existence from expanding past all the pain, and lies. Growing up beyond her mistakes, and letting go of everything that is now gone. That has faded away like cigarette smoke in the air. But you see, these are her favorite memories, because she'd kill for danger, and lives for trouble. Even if it leads her into complete heartache, and devastation. Even if it shatters every hint of sanity left in her, the exhilaration itself is more then enough to make her want to be insane. And now, that she can't relive the moments that made her feel young, made her feel intimidatingly beautiful, all she has left are memories. Memories, scars, and the knowledge that she'd never change a thing.