I know nothing but not knowing

Remembering someone who isn't there anymore. A hand held, a straight stare for miles into their eyes--it all rushes back to you, a feeling of flight into the past and happiness for what was. 

Sometimes the tease of a good memory can be like the tease of a girlfriend: an annoying little bitch. Sometimes it's more like a gamble you always lose. And at horrible times the memory perpetuates itself as something real because we let it. Gatsby let it ruin him. Porcelain let it erode  her will. The father in "Pretty In Pink" let it come between him and his daughter.

And what do these people have to show for it? A bullet to the heart? Wounds that don't heal? A ghost?

But it's not always death or trauma that makes these memories so painful to have. It's a rejection, someone who said no a long time ago. Someone who teased you with the idea that life was better with them and that home was with them. That they could save you from yourself. But nope. There's someone else to save, someone else to better, someone else to make a home with.

Ghosts of superheroes who didn't really exist. The angel who fell. The memories you can't be sure are memories, because they're so good they're fantastical. The ones you knew if they hadn't happened, you'd be better off because you can't miss someone that you don't know. But you do, because you think you used to know them.

I can be so blindly certain.