The more I try to remember, the harder I cling to memories of you, the faster they leave. It's like trying to grip water. I knew it would happen this way, but I don't want to believe that it's actually happening. It scares me to think that there might come a day where I won't be able to remember what your face looks looked like. It scares me that you went from a major concern to a passing thought. I don't want to forget. But I can't help it.

Please forgive me.

"I wondered if there would ever be a day when I didn't think about Alaska, wondered whether I should hope for a time when she would be a distant memory - recalled only on the anniversary of her death, or maybe a couple of weeks after, remembering only after having forgotten."
- Excerpt from Looking for Alaska, by John Green