I was reading the archive I found, words long gone from here.

{How strange. I just checked the date and it was exactly four years ago.}

The point is: I'd forgotten about that book, the one I filled with pictures and poetry and letters for him. I wonder if he still has it, still looks at it, remembers even though I don't seem to anymore.

But the really funny thing {and I've said it before so I'll say it again, by "really funny" I mean the thing I'm going to end this sentence with even though it isn't funny at all} is that what I wrote then was "I used to say that I just wanted someone to love me. Now I know I'd rather be the one in love."

Ha.