A/N Based off of Lev Yilmaz’s animations. Hope you like!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

I am not going to think about her.

I am not going to think about her.

I am not going to think about her.

I am not going to think about her anymore.

I am not going to think about the way her hair smelled.

I am not going to think about the way she said my name.

I am not going to think about how she had a pet gerbil that died when she was seven and how she never really has gotten over it.

I am not going to think about how she would yell “Craig it’s not funny!” when I make fun of her for it.

I am not going to think about how she never cleaned her car.

I am not going to think about how she would make her bed and untuck all the corners so her feet would not get smashed.

I am not going to think about how all her blouses and pants had weird burn marks on them from the iron being too hot.

I am not going to think about how she left open candy bars in her locker in high school and I spent the majority of the school week killing ants.

I am not going to think about how she bought a movie called XXX with a partially nude lady on the cover and thought it was the movie with Vin Diesel.

I am not going to think about how she made the best brownies in the whole wide world and how she bring them over every Tuesday before band practice.

I am not going to think about how she really hated the buzzer on her alarm.

I am not going to think about how one of her eyes was actually bigger than the others.

I am not going to think about how she bit her lip and when she’d forget that she was doing and her lip would start to bleed.

I am not going to think about how we had a running joke that all the self-checkout machines were broken at supermarkets because we could not figure out how to work them.

I am not going to think about how she was so tiny and delicate, that holding her was like holding a little, tiny, cussing, baby bird.

I am not going to think about how she had a freckle on her ear.

I am not going to think about how she actually started crying when Michael Cera started singing “Those Eyes” in Superbad.

I am not going to think about how she always knew the right thing to say.

I am not going to think about how we had a deal that if I bought her the movie Beetlejuice, she wouldn’t make me watch it.

I am not going to think about how I ended up watching the movie one or two or seven times. But, hey, who’s counting anyway?

I am not going to think about how sometimes it felt that we were the only two people on earth.

I am not going to think about how for a long time I thought we would be the perfect couple.

I am not going to think about how she sent a package of all the stuff I had given her to my rehab facility.

I am not going to think about what she is doing right now.

I am not going to think about how even though she hates my guts, she still calls every week to ask how I am doing and to listen to this article she’s writing. And now she never calls anymore, so she probably found someone else to.

It is really time to stop thinking about her.

“Get out of my fucking mind!” I scream and punch a hole in the wall from being so frustrated.

And god damn, it really looks like her.