I'm Not Scared I Won't Find Another You; I'm Scared You'll Forget Me

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Love is bittersweet. It gives us hope for the future, but we almost always fail to remember that it can end.

We forget that in just one moment, we can lose the marvelous, unspeakable, beautifully particular bond that we've been dreaming of for years.

Once that bond is destroyed, we wonder why we worked so hard for it in the first place. We poured in our energy and stretched our limits until, like a rubber band, our connection snapped and broke in two.

And while we stand in the flood while those pieces float around us, we wonder if we can create something just as strong in the future.

I built a bond that promised me hope, longevity, and selflessness. But promises break just when we think they're meant to last forever.

Promises are also often empty; they’re often nothing more than weightless words. We make promises that we don't know we can keep.

When my ex broke my heart, he made me a promise I’ll never forget: He said that he would never forget about me. Keeping his words in my heart and taking them in stride, I tried to live a life after him.

I trudged through. And, to this day, I wonder if the promise he made to me is one he has been able to keep.

Perhaps my greatest fear is that the person I loved will forget me. My concerns are vain and selfish, I know, but I simply cannot let go of this fear.

It haunts me. It traps me in a grip I can’t break. Because when I'm about to open up my heart again -- accept a stranger's offer to dinner, let myself have a crush -- my anxiety creeps in and stops me. After a night out, I come home to one daunting question: Does he still think about me?

And what a thought to have! Why do I get so hung up on this? Do we really think we’re worth being engrained in someone’s memory? Is it natural to want to be remembered, or does "moving on" naturally mean being forgotten?

Charlotte York of "Sex and the City" says that we get two "great loves" in a lifetime. But how do you know which they are?

How do you know if you were a "great love"? And if I wasn't that for my ex, did I still help him to become who he is today?

It took me a long time to get over my ex. But it’s taken me longer to think about how he will one day meet someone who is better suited for him (though I wouldn't say "better than" me). I worry that everything we ever learned from each other will be zapped from his memory. My worst nightmare is that he will feel like we never met.

It's important to understand that love can fall apart. But how do we accept that someone could forget us? How do we accept that our special memories are no longer special to the person we gave everything?

We move on from one relationship to the next as if the past doesn’t exist. That is the scariest part.

We turn our backs on what made us who we are. The people who are everything to us become background noise, which we eventually silence.

If I could, I’d tell him my reservations. I’m scared you’ll forget about me and what we had. I’m scared you’ll forget all the things we taught each other. And I’m scared you’ll grow out of the man you were with me -- and into someone else entirely.

Just because what we had didn’t work out doesn’t mean I want you to live as if we didn't exist.

I want to be a chapter in your book. I want to be one of your biggest steps. I don’t need to be the love of your life, but I would like to be a "great love."

I’d rather you hate me than forgot me, because hate is just as powerful as love. Maybe you’ll be reminded of me and clench your fists, fuming at the thought of that stupid fight we had on a New York bridge under a gray sky that was just as angry.

I’d rather you felt something than nothing. I want you to bring me up in conversation from time to time -- not look back and feel indifferent.

I know it’s a big world out there. I know that we're capable of falling in love more than once -- that it is, in fact, possible to have more than one soulmate.

I’m not afraid I won’t find another you. I’m just afraid you’ll forget about me.