Don't Forget About Me

I used to think love arrived in loud moments, fireworks, confessions, and big scenes. But ours didn’t start like that. It started quietly, long before I ever understood what she meant to me.

Before you existed, before I ever imagined holding you, there was a girl who waited for me. She liked me for two years, quietly, patiently, the way someone waits for a sunrise they believe will be worth it. I didn’t see it then. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t know how to hold something so gentle without dropping it. But she stayed in my life anyway, orbiting close enough to matter, far enough not to scare me away.

She had this beautiful black curly/wavy hair, the kind that looked alive, the kind that made her stand out without trying. But she always straightened it, chasing some version of herself she thought looked better. I kept telling her the curls were perfect, that she didn’t need to change anything. She never believed she was as beautiful as I saw her.

Her brown eyes were warm like a nice summer day, and her smile wasn't loud or dramatic, it was soft, the kind that makes you fall in love. She made me feel like a million bucks even on the days I felt like nothing. She made me feel confident like I had something to live for, like I mattered in a world that didn't care about me.

And when she kissed me, it was never halfway. She kissed like she was giving me everything she had, like she couldn’t let go, like she was afraid the moment would disappear if she didn’t hold on tight enough. I felt that. Every time.

But the moments I remember most weren’t the big ones. They were the quiet ones — like sitting on the bleachers with her head in my lap, the world fading out around us. I’d look down at her, her hair spilling everywhere, her eyes closed, trusting me completely, and I’d think, I could marry this girl. Not because I was young or overwhelmed, but because she felt like home in a way nothing else ever had.

December 12th, 2024 was when everything shifted. Not in a dramatic way — just a soft realization that she wasn’t just the girl who liked me. She was the girl I wanted. The girl who made my chest feel too small for my own heartbeat. The girl who became my first real love.

But love isn't perfect and I wasn't either, love doesn't change who you are but I wish it did. I was unfaithful one day and it didn't matter how many times we put the bandage on the wound it always lingered. She stayed, but didn't forget. She stayed, but lost that fire she had in our kisses, that sense of trust crumbled like a burning building.

We spent months wondering if we were rebuilding or just staying because the pain of losing each other hurt more than anything. And then came December 12th, 2025 exactly one year later. The same day we fell in love the same day you let go of me. Not with anger, not with blame but admitting the truth. Our love ran its course and we had to let go no matter how hard it was to do. This was a special kind of heartbreak, the one that sits there in your chest forever wanting to take every bad decision back. There’s a grief people don’t talk about — the grief of memory. I didnt wanna unlearn your favorite color and have someone new learn mine

My last words to her were simple: Don't Forget Me

I didn’t say it because I thought she would. I said it because some part of me needed to believe that what we had, messy, imperfect, unforgettable — would live somewhere inside her the way it still lives inside me.

Her last words: Promise me you will name your daughter Lucia for you Dont Forget About Me

I promise my love

It was the name she once loved

The name she hoped I would use someday

So I did I finished that promise, thats how you were born Lucia

The name she loved, the promise I kept, the reminder that even when love doesn't last the meaning of it can

So now Don't Forget About Me Lucia, and me and my imperfect love