The beauty of every love story lies in the tragedy it contains. Unreciprocated love is one of the common, but should not be underestimated, genre of love. Feelings may fade away, but memories will still remain for a little longer. The vividness of my memories of him has haunted me for as long as I can remember.

It was a Friday afternoon. The moment I have been waiting for so long finally arrived. I saw him waiting on that bench talking to an old friend. Every step I took towards him made me feel like that every day I spent waiting for this time has finally paid off. My heart is pounding fast. As I see his face getting clearer and clearer, the recent past had flashed before me. All the memories, happy and sad, organized and played a little movie inside my head. And before I knew it, I was in front of him.

He has this laugh that can lighten up the whole world. But I had seen the opposite of that. I had seen him in his saddest hours. I felt the piercing sadness of those moments since it broke my heart as it broke his.

He called my name. There was a sudden blackout of memory. Then I found us walking together down the streets. He was asking me if I have been fine. If he only knew how terrible I felt during my dark days, he would have been ashamed to ask me that.

We continued walking down the endless streets until we find this spot in the middle of the crowd. We pretended that we were alone. We sat as if we were in an ocean of strangers.

How cowardly of him to ask me about what we were going to talk about. I hated it when he pretended that he did not know anything at all. At that very moment, my heart was slowly being crushed to pieces because of his ignorance of my feelings. Then, he came to talk some sense. Every word he uttered is a slap on my face. The reality that I have been trying hard to hide came rushing down on my face. I knew that he just felt nothing, not even sympathy.

And the tears came down rushing on my face. I tried to hold them back but I just could not. I could not even look straight at him. He did not see my pain but I knew he felt it. He patted my back to comfort me but that did not make me feel any better; instead, it made me feel worse.

Every pat, every time he was touching my back, said the secret message that there is nothing he could do to make me feel better. He knew the only thing that can make me feel happy, but he could not give that because he already gave that to someone else.

I wish I had asked him how he felt, how he felt when he heard me crying. Did it make him realize that I was in pain for a very long time? Or did he just pretend as if he cared? I was not strong enough back then to ask him that. I am still not strong enough to ask him that, not today, not tomorrow.

He made his usual talk to make me feel better. I had no choice but to accept those words for the sake of my sanity. But I can remember how he told me in my face that he really loves her. I felt that my heart was saying its death wish. I felt so much that time; I can still feel its echo right now.

We ended that conversation agreeing that we should leave the past behind and start anew. I had to agree with him even though it hurt so much given the thought of; I am giving him the permission to assume that I will become happy, after that day and for the days to come.

That conversation ended but I still kept my feelings for him. I lied.

They say moving on is really hard. It was. I never thought I would be able to forget my feelings for him. Now I know it is possible, but that does not mean I had loved him less. Maybe, I had learned to love myself more. It was not long ago but I have already forgotten why I loved him in the first place. That memory lived long enough to remind me of what we did not have.

Maybe, finding someone else is the key. I am wishing that someday, I would totally forget about him.

My love for him is a beautiful thing but some things are more worth remembering.