I (still) remember. I just do.

I always remember things. Don't ask me why. I just do. It seems as if Forgetting is a dormant, inactivated feature in me, and if there comes the rare moment where I actually forget about something, then it means nothing more than the system is having a glitch. Time passes by, the seasons change, people come and go, my life goes on, and yet here, I remember.

Every single detail is engraved in my mind like artefact. Reminds me of a huge collage sticking stubbornly on the mirror surface, refusing to peel off. I could close both my eyes and still clearly see each memory behind my lids as if it's a relay of never-ending, overplayed movies. A hodgepodge of cuts with various people starring in it.

That includes you.

I see a stray cat and remember that afternoon when two kittens climbed into your window as we were spending time watching a pirated version of Aamir Khan's newest movie. I take a cab home and remember the stupid stories about school days I told you drunkenly on those seemingly-everlasting weekend nights. I tie up my hair in a ponytail and feel the way your fingers playing and twisting my locks. I stand under the shower head and my memory pulls forward that moment when I found out you left marks all over me. I switch on my phone and there it is, the memories of you calling, saying we got to stop whatever we were doing for no reason. The wind blows through my unclosed window and I remember you whispering to my ears how much you love me until you don't anymore. Because I'm still the very same old me no matter what happens but you always love something new. Or someone new.

And it's not just you whose traces never leave my mind.

I still can recall all my regrets. The cruel things I said to people I should have hold dear. The distant ring of a jolly laughter that can be found no longer. The soft brushes of warm skin that has turned ice-cold. The irrevocable mistakes, leaving me with a mountain of ashes from burned bridges I cannot rebuild. The late night calls I picked up despite knowing that it was a game of two lonely persons licking each other's wounds. The sharp rejections that stung too deep I feel their remnants tingling inside even now like a poison to my self-esteem.

And the broken dreams.

The unfulfilled promises.

The many "Someday" that eventually becomes "Never".