I came home tonight to my (old) macbook that had been on ‘retirement’ ever since the retina came into my possession and I felt bad about how ugly and dirty it looked. I tore away the screen protector that served its two years well. I turned it off and took a damp cloth to wipe away the dust and dirt, making it a little more presentable. 

No matter how much I clean it, the dents will be there. The dents from when I dropped it off a table because it was too heavy and I was too careless. 

Yesterday we were watching How I Met Your Mother; that season when Barney and Robin just began to hook up and that episode where Lily forced them to have ‘The Talk.’ I think Charlie was making a reference over dinner: ‘we need to have The Talk.’ He was joking and meant something else but I do not know still what he meant, because we ended up having A Different Talk entirely. 

It was a conversation that led to me asking him what it was like for him, when we actually began dating. It was over Christmas Break of senior year and he thought he was over his ex-girlfriend. But come January and school started and he wasn’t quite and we stopped seeing each other and I was blamed and was called names and he wasn’t the person I wanted him to be. I wish he was, then, but he wasn’t, and I’m envious of him. Envious of his memories. For him, when we first started dating was magical as compared to my memories of pain, sadness, depression, anger, hurt — everything that was most painful for me. He was surrounded by ‘friends’ who were on his side: the same people who judged me and condemned me and blamed me and I felt so alone and hurt and dead. I don’t know if, for him, being ‘over’ it meant I am no longer hurt or saddened by all that had happened in the past. But I told him my memories aren’t so fond or sweet or magical and it’s sad how I can’t feel any happier about how we began even if things are so well and great right now.

This much is true: I still feel a little betrayed when he enjoys the company of people who hurt me most then because he didn’t stand up for me the way I wanted him to, and that was important for me in the past. Really, really important. 

Some memories are like dents like that. Damp cloths just can’t remove it. 

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