I will forget. I will forget all thoughts of you, forget how I missed you, forget how I always wanted to be there for you. I’ll take it out of my system, slowly, painstakingly. I will forget that I wanted to prove that I was different from anyone else, that I would never, ever leave, that Peyton was wrong, and people don’t always leave, at least I wouldn’t. I will forget how Lucas felt, forget the denial and the struggle, forget that Peyton Sawyer would become Peyton Scott, forget that Brooke and everyone else had been waiting for Lucas and Peyton since high school. I will forget about coffee cups and cakes, about blended ice and things alike. I will forget about volleyball and art and music, forget about basketball, forget about writing. I’ll stop thinking about orphanages and hospitals and things we used to believe in. I’ll forget everything, even you.
And now I know, I can leave it all behind, because this is the last piece, the last account I’ll write about you. I will forget. Because I doubt you’ll ever see me again.
Mind over matter. Mind of matter.
