I don’t remember the last time I saw you. Everything has blurred; I remember the great moments and the bad. I spent ten months in your arms: breathing, sleeping, and safe. I left you because the bad moments were too dark. I also left because I just don’t feel like staying in safety anymore. There is no thrill in being uncertain but at least I can now be with myself. I don’t remember the bad words that were exchanged, or the touches done in anger. I remember instead the video game that we used to play every time we drank. I remember falling asleep in a bed that felt vaguely like mine. Your bed was the only one that I could tolerate. Still I walked away leaving behind the wings that we bought for Halloween. I left the lights that you hung so that I would be at ease. I left the lights that moved in a circle around the wall. I left ears that always listened. I don’t know whether it was as bad as I remember. Distance makes you remember moments in an idealized way. I left this time because I wanted myself. Perhaps I forgot what it was like before the shouting started. The memories fade; I find snippets of your trace. It was ten months where you nursed me when I was sick, ten months of goodnight texts, ten months of shouting, ten months of extraordinary lightness. The love felt heavy, like a chain. I was tired of moving in a tight embrace. I left to seek freedom. Freedom feels oddly unsatisfying and lonely. 11 Months ago from january we met in starbucks. You fell in love with the smile on my face. I fell in love with love again. Everything broke and dilapidated. It all feels so far away. You are now gone and I am trying to make the best of solitude. It hurts.