And the one day I remember the clearest was an afternoon in May. I loved you, oh how I loved you so much. It was storming in the city, and it was the only time I had felt alone in such a big place. The sky was grey, and gloomy, and it described my mood perfectly. I walked to Seventh Avenue and Grove Street, and stared at the buzzer for a while. I had seen it a thousand times, a small white, circular button worn from all the fingers that have rung it in the past. I studied it, and even though this used to be a daily routine for me, this time, ringing it seemed like the hardest thing I had ever done. I finally built up enough energy and I rang for apartment 5c. You knew I was coming so the quiet buzz allowing me to enter the tall brick building was music to my ears. I entered slowly and with a heavy heart knowing what was to come in just a few short hours. I slowly walked the five flights of cracked stairs, every step I took my heart began to race faster, I don’t know what it was that day but walking those stairs felt like a never ending battle. I approached your door and before I had the chance to knock the door swung open. I could see a box in the corner packed with a few things and near it was your old guitar waiting to be packed into your 1998 Volvo. Maybe you could tell by the look in my eyes, or maybe you felt the same way I did, but without any words you wrapped me into the tightest embrace I’ve ever felt. Swaying back-n-forth I never wanted that moment to end. The smell of cigarettes leaked from your clothes, you only smoked when you had fallen back into your depression, and I could tell just by the smell of those cigarettes, that you were not doing well. To me those cigarettes smelled like home. I saw the pack in your pocket, Camel Crush Bold, it was your favorite type, and it reminded me of all the nights we spent on your fire escape, telling stories of our childhoods, and letting all of our problems disappear as the smoke engulfed our lungs. You were wearing my favorite shirt the teal V-neck with the small speckles of black in it. I’m not quite sure why I liked that shirt so much, but you knew. “I’ll be back to see you someday,” you told me, but that wasn’t satisfying enough for me. Why did you have to go? Was I not good enough? These are questions I ask myself still to this day. I used to believe that maybe if you hadn’t left I wouldn’t hate myself so much, and I wouldn’t have been so unhappy,  but I can’t blame you for that.  You were following your dreams. I sat down on your brown leather couch next to you, curled up within your arms and for a short moment everything went away. One leg intertwined within both of yours and our arms crossed across your lap while you caressed my skin with your soft touch. There was absolutely no space between us and that’s the way I wanted it to stay. The TV was in the background playing your favorite movie, and the TV and couch were the only two items left in the living room. Your posters were off the walls; your favorite coffee table was already in the car waiting to start the trip to Chicago. Your band was moving there, with hopes to get big. Just signed and ready to take off into new directions and things even you couldn’t dream of, and you just happened to be the biggest dreamer I had ever met. You had begged me to come with you, but I couldn’t, you needed to do this on your own, and the city needed me. It was around 5 pm now, and you had to leave by 6. We walked over to your bed and it was the last time I was ever going to lie in it. It smelled like you, and bad memories. Drinking at 4 am till we couldn’t see straight and hoping that the morning would bring new opportunities, but it never really brought anything but a hangover. Laying there it felt like that was exactly where I was supposed to be, still tight in your arms I felt like the world was infinitely ours. You grabbed your guitar and played my favorite song, it was soft and sweet and the words fell off your tongue like leaves fall from the trees in autumn. But by this time our time together was coming to an end, so the song became less sweet, and more bitter. I swear you could feel the tightness in my chest just by looking at me because you told me everything was going to be alright. I didn’t believe you, but hearing you say it was still nice. Walking down to your car with three boxes and your guitar in hand it was the last time you would see this apartment, maybe even me. You loaded up that 1998 Volvo slowly and carefully making sure nothing was going to break or cause you any trouble during your trip. You closed the trunk hard, then looked at me the way you did the first time you ever told me you loved me. You kissed me for the last time and looked me in the eyes and said no matter what happens I will always love you, and I will be back for you someday. I smiled. You sat down in the car and closed the door, the engine started and before I knew it you were gone and you didn’t look back. I wish you hadn’t left that day. I miss apartment 5c, and I miss the sound of your voice. I miss the cigarettes you used to smoke and the way you looked at me with your long eyelashes and eyes that just tore away at my mind. In spring the next year you returned but I had already married, a tall man named Johnathan that may not have held my heart quite like you had but he also hadn’t broken it quite like the way you did. He holds my hand and calls me beautiful but he doesn’t tear through my mind quite like you. How I miss having you in my life, and how I wish things had ended differently, but the truth about you is even though you brought out the good in me, you released a part I never want to see again. So goodbye to the boy with the pretty eyes and the old guitar, the story of what we could have been still remains unfinished.   And I will think of you when I hear that song you sang to me, or when I see someone with your favorite pack of cigarettes. But just because I loved you don’t mean I need you.