You bought me a camera for our anniversary.

I didn't know if it was because you were tired of me filling up your phone's memory with all sorts of random pictures and crying when I had to delete them, or if you remembered me telling you about my dream of being a photographer but tossed it away for a wiser decision. Or maybe I dropped a not so subtle hint about wanting a camera. (Remember that time at the restaurant?)

It wasn't anything fancy. It wasn't a fancy DSLR camera but it was a camera nontheless. I wasn't expecting anything special because we had to keep us a secret and to maintain our low profile. But the fact that you remembered me wanting one was so heartfelt and touching.

I was so in love with you, you know that? I honestly thought that I could spend the rest of my life with you. But I now know that was all wishful thinking.

Because now, I'm lying on my bed, crying hopeless tears and going through every single picture- no, memory -  we could have ever shared.

I'm going to delete them.

It's like a purge of sorts, a purge of all the memories we could have ever shared.

A cleansing of my feelings for you.

You know how much I hate doing this. You know I don't like deleting photos, because I'm a memory hoarder. This was something very hard for me to do. But by the time you see the camera, it will probably be empty just like I am right now. And hopefully, it will be as empty as my feelings for you now. I'm clearing up everything and I'm going to move on.

I'm sure you won't have a problem with that.