I’m doing it again. That silly “thinking of you” thing that I have no control over. You know, that thing where I think about the first time we met. How I wanted you right from the very start. “I told my girl you can get iiiiiit,” and then *poof* there you were with your hands in your pockets and smile on your face.

That thing where I remember the first time we slept together. I was wearing shorts in your kitchen, and you kept rubbing my thigh while your roommate and I talked about … I didn’t care. I was paying attention to you paying attention to me.

See, this thing is driving me crazy. Because I can recollect almost every single kiss you’ve ever given me …  even though you always took them back. Especially the ones on my forehead that were usually accompanied by a caress on my face, and stroke of my hair. The ones you gave me when you thought I was asleep, and I pretended you actually cared.

There’s still some things I’m leaving out. Like the sushi you described as “Yummy City,” and giving me your scarf (that I almost lost btw) when I was cold on that rooftop. Bacon Tuesdays, defragmenting hard drives, and teleporting myself to you. Do you remember any of this? You said I smelled like fruit cocktail one night.

But then I think about all the other things. The things I wish I could forget, but constantly  remind me that I shouldn’t be thinking of you at all. At all. You were never mine, and the funny thing is, I never thought I could change that. Nor did I want to. I never expected you to have a “thing” for me too. I just hope you think about me too.