Sometimes you remember.

Most of the time you try to forget. But sometimes (and it's usually when you're staring at the ceiling, when you're watching the people and the world go by, when your mind's allowed to drift), sometimes you remember.

You listen to a song from years ago; you become the person from years ago. You become your carefree, heartbroken, happy, foolish self again. You were an empty slate; life and pain hadn't etched itself on your skin just yet.

Sometimes you don't want to remember. Your throat tightens, you feel like throwing up. You think on it, ponder at the possibilities, oh the possibilities. How wonderful it would've (more of could've) been. But then you realise you don't know really. Things don't always (and don't usually) turn out the way you expect them to. Just look at yourself now.

Sometimes you remember and you let it get to you. All it does is ruin your day. Suddenly old places, old sights and old smells all shove a horrible familiarity right into your face. You've tried forgetting so, so hard. But when you finally remember it hits you like a train, it bears no subtlety in its arrival. You heave a heavy sigh, shake it out of your head. There's no point remembering. You tell yourself, "forget it, forget it."

But sometimes... Sometimes you lay down, you look up at the sky, and you remember. Your ears twitch at the thought. A small smile finds itself on your face. Suddenly it's a grin, and suddenly you're beaming. You think about how stupid you must look, but you don't care. Nothing in the world's going to stop you from remembering.