I ran. Away from the books, away from that person, away from everything that hinted about them, only to find myself all the more closer to myself. And when I got too close to myself, I saw them in me again. Bummer!
I regressed. Two steps at a time. Nothing soothes more than a pattern and its repetition. Try. Do something in a pattern. So I played like this for a while till I distanced myself from me, in a pursuit to distance myself from them. Only to find their memories waiting for me when I thought the distance was just right.
I sat by a tree or in a mire. Hard to recall. And thought what was more tormenting. The person in me, or their memories outside of me. Haha! I laughed like you. Only mine was fake. I was doomed. When it comes down to a choice between memories and a person, and if that person is not yourself, you know you are doomed.
And so I cleaned my room and befriended a few cockroaches.