A bit of a fool’s story

Why in the end, we start to think about the beginning? Well, I don’t know, but let’s just write it down. I remember that film you know? Les Amours Imaginaires. Yeah, a great film, with a killer soundtrack. That music, Pass This On by The Knife, the first one we heard. Than, I remember a party. Great party, by the lake. Oh, I remember when I first left you for two weeks… I was going on a trip and god, how I wanted you to be there, to see all that stuff with me. I remember I told myself that I would be there with you sometime. And of course, our trips together. We both shared the same wills of exploring the town. I remember our friends, the relationships we made together. Our couples nights, when we hang out with our couple friends, the dinners and the parties, that was fun. I remember how everyone asked me “how are you?” and than “how is he?”, just like I knew. I remember the movies, when we just went to the supermarket, bought crap, and returned home to watch nerdy movies on bed. And yeah, there are others things, but most of all, I remember you. That first picture I took of you on my bed, and the one I took of you by the pool. The only time you were at that pool with me. Those nights, your smile, your childish funny way of talking, your happiness, your beautiful cry. I remember hugging you, telling you there were no need for that, that I was there. Tho, I remember the way you walk. The way you were always trying to tell desperately how you loved me, and the way I couldn’t ever express what I felt. I don’t remember feeling alone. Now, I just feel alone.