but i just needed him so much and it never felt like enough and he wasn’t consistent and his inconsistency and my insecurity were this horrible match for each other, but i still loved him, because all of me was wrapped up in him, because i’d put all my eggs in someone else’s basket, and in the end, after countless days, i was left with an empty basket and this gnawing endless hole in my gut, but then now i find myself deciding to remember him as a good person with whom i had some good times until we, both of us, got ourselves into an ineradicably bad situation.
and the moral of the story is that you don’t remember what happened. what you remember becomes what happened.
