Why It Matters

We whispered words like they mattered. 

You bought the wrong chips and wouldn’t hold my hand because when I wore boots I was taller than you, though you wouldn’t admit that was why.

I don’t know why I’m writing about this, about you. It isn’t like I’m hung up, but sometimes my mind rewinds and I replay these moments. 

The moments on your couch watching movies about aliens and watching Adele sing on Late Night talk shows. The moments when we’d go get tacos and sit behind the movie theatre. It’s not like I want these moments again, I just remember them. They replay in my head.

So when the summer slips away and September comes, that’s when I wake up. Now it is winter (though the weather feels like spring). So what mattered?

The words? The conversations? I want to say that none of it mattered, but that’s not true. Because it all mattered.

Sometimes in my head, in this replaying reel of snapshots that I try to repiece, I tell myself that I was just your rebound. That’s probably true. But it still mattered. Maybe not to you, but to me. Because it all matters.

Insignificant fragments. Words without completed syllables. Looks and glances. Smiling at you while you were driving or listening to music as you do that thing where you move your shoulders up and down. It all matters.

So if you read this and think that I’m writing this because I miss it, I will tell you right here that you’re wrong. I am writing because I know the memories will fade as I keep moving forward. They will soon be forgotten just like everything I’ve ever learned about math in high school. But I want my memories to live because they have all shaped me.

And that’s why it matters.

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