Based very loosely on the movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless mind. I'm not following the movie completely, but there will be similarities. All flashbacks will be obviously distinguished from the present to avoid confusion since there will be many flashbacks associated with this story. Thanks in advance for reading and I hope you enjoy!

I hadn't quite been able to pinpoint the moment where I had gone wrong. I thought, though maybe a bit too optimistically, that I had been good, and that I had followed the relationship by the fairytale rulebook. It was weird, to have cared so much about someone so... strange. She was different, with her always care free spirit and ever knowing smile. She was intriguing. She was a drug that terrified my entire being and caught me so far into an addiction that I was hopelessly fighting. No way can I put her into words. Words do not come close to capturing the energy of this girl who grabbed me by the leather jacket and ripped off my horns. No longer was I flirting the lines with Satan, instead I was hopelessly floating on clouds with an angel carrying me between her wings. No longer did I fight the feelings that told me to run. She was the watering-can that fed the tiny seed buried deep within my nearly empty chest.

She was all these things to me, however never was I able to return these things. The gates around my growing heart were suffocating. The devil on my shoulder was always telling me to run, leading me away into a situation that he deemed safer. She came into my life to fix my broken soul. I came into her life to break her good spirit. It's all I was ever good for, it's all I had ever known in life. Never was I taught how to give and not take. Still she watered the seed in my chest and it grew, and grew. She continued to water it, and it continued to grow until the seed was no longer a seed. The seed became a black hole, most likely planted by Satan on my shoulder. It sucked up all the water she could give, and even when she ran dry she did everything she could to keep feeding the parasite that was growing inside of me. I took. I never gave. I tried. But never hard enough.

Fairytales usually start with a struggle and end with a happily ever after. They usually have to fight good with evil and love always conquers all. I found out quickly that we were never going to be able to become what I had so wished we could. We started happily, we conquered the good and discovered the evil, we lost the love and it conquered us in the end.

I've liked to believe that there are certain things that can never be forgotten. Things like graduations and achievements, wins and loses and because of it I led myself to believe that those people who shape you, and those people that you shape, cannot be forgotten. Though I'm not a deep thinker by any means, I can't help but ponder the thought of forgetting the thoughts that seem unforgettable. Those things that have made you, you. How those things can leave your mind, how they can be forgotten, or how they can be erased. This is nothing like forgetting a birthday or anniversary, it's forgetting why you live and what you continue living for. I can't understand it. Maybe, maybe I just won't allow myself to understand it... I usually try to avoid this deep end of my mind because I've never properly learned to swim. My sea of thoughts has proven to be a deep, dark, cold ocean that swallows all that enters its waters.

Yet, I led myself to believe that memories are forever, even if people aren't.

As the years progress I seem to lose faith in everything I once believed in. Things change, they always change, I know that it's inevitable. But I thought, maybe, we could keep the things that seem as concrete as memories.

I met Brittany at the train station on a rainy Tuesday morning. I was running late for work, and she was running late for life. I was running away from reality, and she was the escape. I don't believe in love at first sight, but that's okay because I didn't see her at first. I heard her, lightly humming; I listened to her soft melody. I acoustically encoded her into my mind, into my heart, and into my life.

She was the kind of women one could only wish to have, or to become. She was a different kind of beautiful, the type that you only usually saw on television and in movies. It wasn't fake though, she simply was that flawless without even needing to try. She wore no makeup, she didn't need it. She rarely went into any effort to style her hair, but she didn't to. All of those things just seemed to fall right into place for her without any effort.

She didn't worry about the bad things in life, rather she made point to believe in the good and share those beliefs with everyone she encountered. She walked into a room just to bring it to life. She smiled and immediately cured the common case of the frowns. She laughed, and everyone laughed along even if nothing was funny. She was unforgettable, impressionable, and everything I could never become, everything I could never hold onto.

She was everything that I used to want to grow up into. She was a free spirit that wasn't held down by anything, or anyone. She didn't need a job to make a living nor did she need a house to make a home. She just was existent in a world of people determined to stand out, to succeed, and to win. I'd never admit to being jealous of the fact that I was never going to be any of those things. She tried to shape me into someone more willing to see the good rather than the bad. She attempted to show me the optimistic views that painted a permanent smile upon her glowing face daily.

I was never willing to see the things that she saw in people. I clung to my beliefs that people aren't good, nor do they actually have true intentions.

Many times she tried to explain to me that she was different, that she would make me believe in people. She'd smile this, almost sad, but still cheerful smile that made me, forced me, to believe her. And I did. But now I don't.

Brittany never needed anything in life except her dance shoes and a smile. She was content with living couch to couch because she claimed it gave her more of an opportunity to change people. That's all she ever tried to do. She wanted to be that person that someone would remember forever. She wanted to be anything anyone else needed, because she needed to be remembered.

It's ironic... She tried so hard to make people remember her but she no longer wanted to remember things herself. Things got hard, and she decided to forget. She decided to erase all of the good along with the bad. She took away everything I tried so desperately to give her. She took the memories that I tried to make perfect, and she erased them. One simple hour long procedure erased me from her life.

That fact alone isn't what bothers me the most. The hypocrisy of the situation can be forgiven, as can the entire act of removal itself. It was her choice, after all. I cannot understand what exactly drove her to make that decision, but I have no choice but to accept it.

What I can't forgive, however, is the fact that I still remember. I remember every detail of every moment we spent together. I like to think that I can remember everything so vividly that I could paint a picture of every frame captured with the camera in my mind.

Sometimes I would catch myself trying to take a mental picture with my eyes. I would stare intently at her face, right into those deep baby blues, and then I would begin memorizing every speckle of green and every hue of blue. I would count every freckle, and every blink of her eye. Then I would shut my eyes tightly, open them quickly, just to tightly shut them again. Like a camera shutter taking multiple pictures as if to capture movement without actually recording.

I remember the stolen glances, and the shy smiles. I remember the first word she ever spoke to me, and I remember the last. I remember the digits to her phone number, the combination to her padlock for her bike, and I remember every moment she spoke the three words, and spelled out those eight letters that will forever haunt my memories. The exact memories she will never recall. The exact memories that used to be able to make her smile. The exact memories that she used to need to give other people.

She told me once that if things didn't work out, that at least we could always remember the times when everything did work. We'd be able to look back to those times and accept that fate wasn't really on our side. She told me that it would be okay because those memories are things that will never change, that though there would be bad memories as well that the good ones are what will stick. Happiness was always going to be hiding under those bad moments, and that's what we needed to always remember. Happiness is something that comes in small phases. Some people experience these phases longer than others. The thing that would always be most important is the simple act of remembering the those phases, and then learning from their endings how to make them last longer.

She's forgotten my name, and my face. She can't remember the times that I cried, and she held me. She'll never remember the day when I let her take me over.

I refuse to believe that just because she went to some doctor to make her forget that it erases feelings as well. She promised, she swore, that she would always love me. She'd never break a promise. I hope she would never break this promise.

She'll never remember that I love her, and that I've never loved anyone else.