i think i've finally stopped liking you. thank you for the memories, but i'd rather forget about them. hopefully, as time passes i'll forget little details about the days we spent together, and when i find someone, i'll stop looking for pieces of you. why is it that every poem i've written, every song i've hummed, every painting i've made, had to be about you? why do i tell stories about us as if 'we' still exist? you were the first one i've loved, intense, eager and problematic, but a learning experience all in all. i hope that this is the last note on here that i write about you. goodbye .