It was me

Yes, of course, it was me. It was my fault.

No matter how clearly you remember that conversation we had about wasps when we couldn't even count up to fifty.

I started it. You were just being nice.

Nevertheless, you can perfectly recall that dress I used to wear.

You just didn't want to hurt me, so you didn't stop me.

But you think we used to be best friends, even if I can't remember talking to you before that bloody night.

Sure, I told you I had always loved you.

Surprisingly enough, it is you who can remember the exact words I said four years ago when you asked me a petty question as I rushed home from school.

Yes, definitely, I pushed you.

But it was you who was shivering that hot night.

It was all about me. I made it happen.

(?)

Well, I'm not saying it was the other way round, I'm just saying I'm not THAT into you. You know, at least I'm not the one hoarding memories.