I just thought of something.

As mad as I am at Patrick, I can't help the simple fact that I'm in love with him. I've been denying it since he basically said we were never together and we don't have a future together, but it's true.

I can't even remember him with anger. I play back the time we spent together, him making me breakfast, holding my hand, kissing me before class, taking me out because "I look so pretty".

Even though I know he doesn't feel the same way, my brain wants what who wants. The more I think about him, the more my anger fades. Of course he doesn't want to date someone like me; he's gorgeous and bisexual and he really likes to sleep around. 

It was silly of me to think I was special in his life. Even though I know I'm not and I never will be, I can't help but smile when I think about him. The puns he would randomly say, how he would always invite me to sit on his lap by just pulling my hips there, the first time he kissed me.

The first time we made out. Him inteoducing me to Jhonny as "this lovely lady right here". At my first party when he called me baby for the first time and said I was too good to him. Walking with him. I told him about Star Jasmine and he took me to this house that had a fence covered in it.

The night we drank Sangria on the beach. We just drank and talked and then he lay on top of me while he kissed me. And then after he said, "Let's get outta here," we folded up the blanket and walked back to his place.

I remember that once I said, "It seems like most of our relationship is folding blankets."

The way he would look at me and smile was unearthly. He adored my face and my eyes.

I could go on and on. But I won't, for my sake. I've stopped trying to fight the memories that come, but they usually end in me crying and/or wondering what Patrick is doing this very moment.

Which, I assume, isn't particularly healthy. So I get lonely and download dating apps on my phone and then delete them after a short time. It's an endless cycle.