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January 24, 2023

Splintered fondness

TP Kaur
Splintered fondness

Memories of you always seem to hit me at the most inconvenient times

We laughed so hard we cried

The times we supported each other when we actually cried

I think of you when I look at pine trees and I think of you when I hear people sing well

I still remember sitting on the grass and drawing with rocks on the playground

I still have some of your old art tucked into a folder

In a sense I'll always miss those days

You helped me through the hardest moments of my life

I never want to speak to you again

I hate that there are certain days of the year that will always make me think of you

Some of my best childhood memories were with you

Our happy memories are soured by your actions forever

I have a playlist that makes me think of you and it fills me with white hot rage

I wish I had told you how much your voice meant to me

I hate you. I love you. I'm sorry. I'm not sorry

I like to think I have moved on completely from you but thoughts like these still linger

They haunt me

I want memories that aren't of you but I hold onto the memories that are

What is forgetting if not murder

It's been years, it's amazing how long the grief and anger stretches

I hate you. I hope you're well

I hope you are happier. I hope we never meet again

I think I'm done crying though, I doubt anyone is crying for me

I don't miss any of you at all

I grieve the good that could've been

It's a curse and an honor, getting to care about people so much

Certain things become so closely connected and even after our closeness is over, the memories stay true

At this point I've lived longer without you than with you

I am going to make myself a better person even after what you did but you will never know

I don't hate you

Sometimes I forget you exist

TP Kaur is just an average college girl pursuing a bachelor's in science but continus to find solace in the arts. She loves to sketch, to read, to listen the music of the nature. Sometimes she gives in to her love of creating. Writing is just another escape into a world of beautiful words.

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