How can such a simple item like a toothbrush so powerfully remind you of everything we used to be? I remember when I first gave it to you, it was such a stupid gesture, but you were so excited about it. Looking back, it was subtly acting as a symbol of you moving into my life; I think it was the first time since the end of your previous relationship that you felt anything remotely close to love, and your accepting of that made start falling for you hard, very hard. In fact, I think you are the only person I have ever loved aside from my family and, of course, myself.
I know I’m clingy, but that’s because every waking moment of my life is spent thinking about the past–everything I ever did wrong, everyone that I ever felt a connection with, and dwelling on how big of a disgrace I am–or fantasizing about the future–everything I’m capable of achieving, my dreams and aspirations, and what my family will be like. Naturally, I think about the person that I had the most intense feeling for–that person is you. It’s weird, but I know there was something there, I have never felt a connection so strong, and, yet, you were the one who wasn’t ready. I understand your circumstances, but that doesn’t mean it still doesn’t hurt; it only means that I’m going to hold on to something that may never be, possibly forever. I’ll always think, “what could have been?” That’s merely one example of my perverted brain. But, you were too understanding. You once wrote something along the lines of “And I think I’ve met my match–someone as
damaged as me. But he doesn’t like when I use that word.” You never wanted to hurt me, and that’s one more reason for me to love you always.