Too Late To Remember

Remember when you said I could never hurt you?

Those lonely nights at 3 am when we would sit up and send each other our favourite songs and talk about life and love and the books we would write. When I’d laugh at you for not being able to ride a bike and you’d pretend you hated me for it but five minutes later we’d be back at it again, Jeff Buckley and Bob Dylan blasting our ear drums through our headphones. Ignoring the alarms set for the morning. Ignoring the homework we never did.

Remember when you said I could never make you angry?

I tried and tried pushing all of your buttons but all you did was laugh, and all that did was make me angry and the circle started again. You said that I could never make you angry, no matter how hard I tried and I did try. I pushed and pushed. But never. Those stupid nights at 3 am with your favourite song still singing in my ear, the way that you would get excited over something you’d forgotten. James Vincent McMorrow and Elton John serenading us as we sat awake. Knowing we’d miss the morning classes but caring more about each other than a psychology lesson.

Remember when you said I could never make you cry?

You didn’t cry at anything and it was the only thing I never wanted to see. But you did cry, when I got so angry at you that I felt like I was exploding and every part of me wanted to burst, to cover the world in the hurt that I was feeling so that you would maybe, possibly, understand what it was like in that moment to feel like you have the weight of Jupiter pushing down on you and there was nothing you could do to get it off.

Remember when I made you scream into your pillow?

I threw away the sentiment. I threw away the trust. I got everything that would hurt you and threw it away because you’d hurt me. I drank and drank and swallowed the pain and anger and didn’t know what I was doing until I’d done it and it was too late.

Remember when it was too late?