time is taking it's sweet time erasing you.

You know, it's funny. Every time I am really missing number twelve, I do something stupid like I did on Friday night. I find a boy to make me forget about him for awhile, at least, a boy I think will make me forget about him. It backfires, pretty much every single time because I wish this new boy was number twelve. And then I regret my decisions because I know how disappointed number twelve would be in me. How pathetic is that. We have been broken up for almost 3 years and I still feel guilty, like I cheated on him. We have these moments of absolute perfection. These times when we almost fall back into the way that we used to be. And afterwards, it's devastating. The selfish part of me says it's only difficult for me, but if I'm honest, I know it's not easy for him either. It's hard, a love like this. A love that despite the worst of circumstances, remains. A love that despite months without speaking, remains. A love that somehow strengthens, forgives, remembers, continues to grow.
I would be lying if I didn't say that I love him more now than I ever have. The cliche says, "if you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's yours. If it doesn't, it never was."
It's funny though, I think each time I see him, or speak to him, I realize our love is stronger than ever. It's strong because it has to be. It's strong because I have to believe that in loving him as much as I do, I have to let him live his life without me. And I think he knows he has to do the same. We are both guilty of falling back into it and realizing how terribly perfect and incredibly horrible we are for each other. I think that's the hardest part, trying to accept that. So many people desire an explanation from us, I often desire an explanation from myself, or from him. The truth is that there is no explanation. It simply is. It complicatedly is. It is love. That's all. Love. Beautiful, tragic, love.