I remember you when you and my sister were best friends.
When you were practically in love with her.
When you didn’t understand how she could like someone else since you were right there.

I remember you when we were arch enemies.
When we would spend our time seeing how long we could continue our sarcasm battles before someone would get stumped and the other declared conqueror.

I remember you when you swore I was in love with you.
I wasn’t.

I remember you when we started to become friends.
When we would hang out every Tuesday morning.
When you would freak me out of my skin driving donuts in Grandfather’s yard.
When we would spend all day laughing about things you would post or the random groups you would start on Facebook.

I remember you when you started dating Megan.
When I began to look at you in a different light.
When you changed…for the better.
When you were no longer as crass as you had been those many years before.

I remember you when you, in my eyes, became the perfect boyfriend.
For her. Not for me.
I remember you when I spent my days thinking about what a great husband for you’d be and what a great father you’d be.
For someone else. Not for me.
For someone else’s children. Not for mine.

I remember you when I felt as if we had become the best of friends.
When you could tell me anything.
When you would tell me your secret plans; your dreams.

When did that change?
Was it Megan that changed you?
Did she become jealous of our friendship?
Just like she did with you and my sister’s friendship?

I remember you when you put down my dreams.
I remember it wasn’t something major. But
I remember you when my best friend (or who I thought was my best friend) broke the stars my dreams lived on.

I remember you when you told me you were serious.
When your joke found its way into my heart.
I remember that look on your face, the look in your eyes behind those stupid sunglasses when your push-over finally stood up to you.

Were you scared when you discovered that I would no longer be your door mat?
Were you scared when you found out you had gone too far?
Were you scared when you saw that I would no longer put up with the crap you shoveled out to me?

I remember you when you “apologized.”
When you looked at me that way because you felt I was stepping on your girlfriend’s territory.
I remember that was territory I had owned for six years; territory I bought with my hard-earned sweat and dedication.

I remember you when harassing me almost became an obsession.
When I made my decision.
When I decided you were no longer worth it.
When I made my choice:

If this was how it was going to be,
It was going to be without me.

I remember you.
I remember the real you.
I remember the you before Megan.
I remember the you before you changed.
I remember the real you.
The real you.

Do you remember?