We were only "together" for two weeks, we were 17 years old and at a month-long sleepaway art camp. After camp ended, we saw each other three times - once for a day trip to an art museum, once when we both found a lame excuse to meet up for a couple hours, and once when she came to my homecoming dance. We kept up with e-mail for a few months, but sometime the following spring that just... stopped.

Literally my only memories of being with her were associated with summer, sunshine, art, and fun. We'd never run out of things to say to one another. It was perfect.

Through college and my first couple years in the real world, she would cross my mind regularly and I wondered if she was the person I was supposed to be with. I was still young, she was still young, maybe our paths would cross again one day. But eventually I accepted that we were no longer those teenagers - no longer the same people who shared that perfect window of time. A time when we really were young enough to be carefree, but just old enough to relish the moments we had together.

I'm over her, and more importantly the idea of her, and now I can appreciate the memories for what they are.