Another line, another wasted line

Every once in a while, I return here to dig up a forgotten treasure chest of emotions. When the grab bag life hands me turns out to be nothing but stale candy, I come here to reflect on the good and the bad, moreso the bad.

The further back I read, the more eyeliner-stained tissues I soak and the more disappointed I become in myself. I was happy once. I really was. And I gave that up.

It's hard to say what kills me more- seeing the changes in myself from years past, nearly always for the worse, or knowing these changes can't be reversed. Knowing that these lessons the world sat me in its classroom to teach me were wounds that would scar and leave me marked for life.

I'm not the same person I used to be. Then again, none of us are. But I remember you, even without returning here to dig up old emotions. I remember every ounce of you. Your wit, your handsome charm, your motivation and the words you sculpted. Every held glance, every lingering kiss, every moment I took for granted.

Do you remember me?

Or was that another wasted line?