I Remember

Fiction By Flying Past Clouds // 5/27/2014

There was no definitive moment. No one, singular moment in time that stood out that said, "Yes, this is it". Sure, ask me for some occasions where the thought was made particularly evident to me, and I'd be able to give you a handful of scenarios and one or two dates, but one moment? No.
For instance, I remember watching that video, and the room was about half lit, with some lights filtering through the blinds. The windows must have been open, at least a little, because they were swaying a bit. And I remember you and I were the only two who laughed at a joke that was brought up, and we looked at each other and kind of grinned. I felt a little flutter inside my heart, like a tiny ladybug had gone up and fluttered against the inner lining of my main cardiac organ. And I looked away quickly, warning myself of what had happened the last time I fell for someone based on their understanding of a joke. And I didn't feel anything, because who gets emotions based off of laughing at a joke nobody else understood? I was being silly.
I remember another time, too, where we were in a group, and you sat next to me. I was jittery because, come on, other people, but the jitter was calmed a bit because there was something about you that was so...calming. But I couldn't be calm, I had to be on my toes. I couldn't let my guard down. As soon as I did that, who knows what could happen? But I let myself contribute, at least a little. A sentence. Because I was feeling generous, not because I was calm.
And there was another time, as well, where we were decorating. We were there with our friends, and I tried to make a joke and it failed, but you didn't seem to mind. Actually, you probably weren't listening. But whatever. But there was something about how you "jokingly" said you were going to die alone that made me think, "Not if I can help it". But I settled with saying, "Ha, me too".
I remember on that day, when you laughed, I felt that lady bug flutter inside my heart again. But it felt a little bigger. Probably moth sized. But I was being to sudden.
I remember talking to you for the first time and complimenting your shoes, and getting really nervous. But then we discovered we both loved the same music, and we started from there.
I remember when we really talked for the first time, and we talked for hours about writing and our favorite bands and television shows and whatever else.
I remember when we discovered how similar we really were, and sitting there like no way, someone else sees the world like I do. And how our camaraderie grew from there.
I remember seeing you upset for the first time, and wishing so badly I could put my arms around you and hug you until you felt better.
I remember hearing the twinge of adoration in your voice as you hurriedly said, "No, you just look...different."
I remember being afraid when you told me your story, and wanting to do anything to protect you from everything.
I remember telling you how I felt, and I remember your response, in detail, and how we "argued" for a little.
I remember the relief when you said you felt the same, and later, I remember blushing at two in the morning.
I remember hugging you when you were upset, and I remember dancing together, and I remember promises.
I also remember the darker times. The moments where you nearly slipped through my fingers, I remember crying and bargaining with God to keep you here with me. I remember the fear in my heart, and I still feel that fear, when I wake from nightmares and whenever you get that blank look on your face. I remember being afraid of losing you.
I remember the little ladybug in my heart when I look in your eyes. I remember how that little ladybug grew into a giant butterfly, and I remember the butterfly beating its wings against my chest whenever you look at me.
I remember because these memories are the fibers of my being.


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