I remember.

May 25th is the two-year anniversary of "the accident." I'm sad, reflective and pensive (and a walking thesaurus, apparently), but...it's not affecting me as much as I feel like it should. I'm not distraught or anything. And that makes me feel guilty as hell, frankly.

I guess I've reached the point where I'm officially moving on. I will never forget, I will always wonder why, and my heart will always break when I think of all that he's lost. I will continue sending him letters and calling his parents...though not as often as I did at first. Someday, I imagine, I will probably stop completely.

If something ever changes on his end, I would be there for him as long as he wanted me to be. But as things stand, I can only do so much. It's taken me two years to accept that.

I will never, ever understand why things like this happen. I will never again be the same Jen that I was before the accident. But even with all that has happened, I am so incredibly glad for the time I had with him. I wouldn't trade it for anything, even though it led to the worst kind of heartache.

Tomorrow, I will go through my usual day. I will live my life. But I will remember.