Why do I keep coming back here? You are not here. Or you are here, but you do not see me. And how could you? I’m always out of sight and out of mind; you’re always looking forward and I have always been behind, locked inside your memory. Bound from forward motion by my feelings. You see, the magnitude of my love for you was proportional to my misery. And like my misery, it stayed with me. Became a part of me.