A Walk Down Memory Lane

Rummaging through the closets yesterday. I found a swiss army knife that I decided to keep. I found the capo that I was looking for for such a long time. I found a make-shift drawing book that was only used for four pages. I found the prologue to an unfinished novel. I also found memories.

It was small and brown and had blue ink stains. Water had sploshed up the corners and the pencil-written words have almost faded away. Every page had a memory. I remember deciding to write it all down for posterity.

After looking through the pages, I now realize how untrue those words were. At least, they were true for a time, they were true for you. I wonder if you too keep the memories. I wonder if you'll ever hate me for not staying true to those words.

It would be convenient to blame the innocence of youth for making all those unkept promises, but that's just taking the easy way out.

I try and justify my action or the lack of it by telling myself that the future is unclear. It's best not to leave you hanging. Maybe I should have told you instead of just keeping silent.

I regret not being there for you then. I wonder if you still think of me the same way you used too even after I failed you. I wish I was more mature then to make my own decision. But that again, is blaming youth.

Now as I close the little brown notebook that you gave me, I wonder whether you are still waiting.

All I can hope for is that you have found someone who can be there for you.

Not like the way I was not.

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Not only is sarcasm fun, so is vague-ism. (If there is such a word.)