its just a memory (of all that we could have been)

Nothing but a memory
And don’t you know it.
Not too hard to move on now, is it?

You’re right, you know.
I overanalyse everything. I over complicate everything.
And I definitely think too much.
Never stop thinking, just can’t, and I know you can see it, those wheels ticking over, over, over in my head.
You’re willing them, begging, them to stop (so there can be peace?)
but they just can’t.

Forever analysing, over and over again.
What if?
But how?
And why?
And what do I think?
And what do you think?

Do I need to know what you think to decide what I feel? 
It’s like I’m basing my decisions on everything else, but not listening to myself.  Getting so caught up in the possibilities, the opportunities.
Every time, I can tell when it’s not worth it.
You know what I’m like, or at least you do by now.  Wish you’d just respond how I want you to.
Wish I knew even how I want you to respond.

Why do I feel like I need this?
I don’t.
And he was right, its not like you go out looking for it or anything, it’d just be nice.
Nice.
It’d be nice to have something nice.

Thankyou, come again.
Watch out, you might be next.
But there aren’t so many left, really, are there?