It's Almost As if You Never Existed

So it is. Just like you said it would be. The shorter story. No love no glory. It’s as if you never existed. Never came and went. Never came. Never went. What do I have to show? Some pieces of furniture that I remember shopping for with you; that entertainment center that the TV rests on (the TV you insisted on, the flat screen, huge fucking TV)- that entertainment center that you so had your heart set on you were almost unhappy that they didn’t have it in stock at the store- so much so that I called them every day until I found it at another location. This futon that we bought together, too, and as memory recalls, we were fighting that day, too. These songs that play in the background while I write that I attach to you, to memories of you, either because we heard them together for the first time, both loved equally (Did we love each other equally? As equally as we loved these songs?), or because they made me think of you then, and so they make me think of you now. This heater that buzzed all night long in that apartment of ours on top of the hill; this heater that you so despised when you first came to visit me in San Francisco that January two years ago. That bar table that your parents sent us, US, for Christmas. That dictionary we used when we played Scrabble and you made words I knew weren’t real. This coffee table that we put that 1000 piece three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle together on. This song that’s playing on the radio now, that I don’t think I would have ever noticed if it weren’t for you, and probably wouldn’t have cared too much for if you hadn’t fallen in love with it (Did you love this song more than you loved me?) Oh, how you hated these sheer red curtains of mine. I think I will keep them forever.

It’s almost as if you never existed. Never came to be with me, never left. If it wasn’t for all those memories I have, I would have wondered if I’d imagined you. Who knows, I might have imagined you and everything I “remember” of you.