I think last night

you were driving circles around me.


Not everything's about you. It doesn't matter even if it was.
You'll never be happier than you are now, and there's really nothing wrong with that.

I'm selfish, too.
-

Fleeting, as it may seem.
Nothing passes without rememberance.
Like an old photograph, fades.
And negatives lost.
Even so.
Bittersweet, the indifference spared.
We're here, then we're gone.