Imagine a girl once was given a book that with every passing day, filled its leather bound pages with her laughter, her love, it made her forget the dumb things in life, made her feel wonderful about herself. It was with her through so many hardships, always promising to be by her side. She shared so much with it, filled its empty pages with so many memories.And when she thought she had it all figured out, she loses the book. With its loss, she lost everything that book held between its pages.
Once in a while, she sees the book. During class, in another's hands. Every time she tries to retrieve that book back, it gets passed on intentionally to someone else, as if it doesn't want to come back, but somehow that doesn't matter. Its contents aren't the same, its turned into something else. So the girl gives up on it. Decides to find another.
But yet, when another book comes along to be in her hands, to fill her days again with its hopeless promises and happiness, she allowed the past to confine her future. Over time, that same girl became afraid that she'll be just as open as before like with the last book and that it'll be gone just as easy. So she doesn't risk it. The girl ends up pushing away any book that might be lost, so she never has to go through that pain again.

For me, you were that book.
I was just the girl.