It’s funny what you remember. You can remember every lyric to every song on your iPod and then some, but you sure as hell can’t remember the information that will be on the quiz next you have next period. You can remember the exact conversation you had with your best friend in elementary school but for the life of you, you can’t remember what you were suppose to pick up on the way home from school.

The human mind works in mysterious ways. It’s beautiful, really.

I remember random things about the years we spent together.

I remember her eyes dashing away from mine when we first saw each other at the grocery store, but I don’t remember what part of the store I was in.

I remember her laugh in the car on the way to my parents house, but I don’t remember what caused that beautiful sound I loved so much.

I remember the words, but not the meanings. I remember the sunset, but never the time.

I remember certain things about certain days, but never those in their entirety.

So why is that I remember every detail from the Last Day? Why is that day so hard to forget?

I remember her eyes staring into mine–not in the intimate way, but in the way you know something bad is going to happen–and I remember exactly what I had just gotten home from buying at the grocery store.

I remember the brokenness in her voice as she spoke to me, and I know exactly what had caused that terrible noise that I hated so much.

I remember the words–“We need to talk”–and the meaning–“This is over”. I remember the sunset–slightly pink, but mostly deep orange–and the time, 7:48, because that was the time on the clock by the window while I watched her pack her things.

I remember every detail of that day, every detail in its entirety.

The human mind works in mysterious ways. It’s disgusting, really.