Expectations suck. I think God made them so he could watch us from Heaven as we get ourselves so high up for letdowns. Expectations cut through our minds like Ginsu knives. They rip out our organs through our noses and leave a horrible empty feeling in our guts. Expectations excite us and build us up to break us down. We spend hours building houses out of cards and then right before we finish God sneezes to knock everything down. We walk up eighty flights of stairs to fall right before reaching the last. We run one thousand miles to be told we're too late. We think so much. We assume so many things. We're so fucking optimistic that when things finally do go wrong we can't understand why.

Well, I can tell you why. God, or whoever is up there, is a sick fuck. He likes to watch us fail. Likes to see us think a little. He gave us expectations to teach us not to expect things in a world of uncertainties. Except we're too damn stupid to realize it until after it's already happened. We're always going to keep having expectations because without them we'd never be excited or motivated.

We're all like damn lab rats. That's all we are until we die.

Part of me never thought today was going to happen. I can't explain to you why I thought I'd never see her again or that I'd never have to really deal with this, but for some strange reasons I did. I had expectations of always being this pathetic robot who'd seen love once and then lost it. I was perfectly fucking okay with that too, until today.

I honestly expected never to see Brittany again. I thought I could go through my life without having to face her. I was wrong. Life isn't that easy. Especially not for me.

When I was little I used to believe in things. Dumb things mostly like in Santa Claus or that if you eat spinach you'll grow massively disgusting muscles. I never really understood believing in love or anything. With my parents being who they are that isn't surprising. But I did believe in things. Beliefs bring on expectations. If you believe in Santa Claus you expect fat men to break into your house and give you shit. Cause and effect relationships I guess... that's what beliefs and expectations are.

Actions and events change beliefs though. You see your mothers handwriting on a present from Santa Claus and you learn that he's a fake, an impostor. Then you stop expecting fat men to bring you shit and you realize there really isn't a naughty or nice list so you can be a bitch and still get presents because your parents feel so bad about never being around that they have to buy you things to make you feel better.

Beliefs and expectations are best friends... and they suck. Today totally proves it too...

Expectation:

Living a life where memories are the only escape from hell. Being comfortable with it. Embracing it. Never actually dealing with consequences because life is too short. Never acting on impulses because you're alone. Falling into habits. Not breaking those habits.

Waking up.

Going to work.
Leaving work.
Grabbing dinner.
Going home.
Sleeping.

Repeat until death.

Reality:

Crying every morning remembering what's been lost. Trying to avoid memories because they hurt more than the present. Hating yourself for things that cannot be changed. Wanting to be something, but still never knowing exactly what. Wanting... Wishing... Anticipating... for nothing. Crying until energy is reduced to nothing and reckless sleep takes over.

Waking up.

Going to work.

Grabbing dinner at the diner that your ex-girlfriend who erased you now works at...

Wait. What?

Action:

Sneaking behind the hostesses desk and stealing a random name tag and vest. Pretending to bus tables. Following Brittany around without her knowing. Effectively becoming a stalker. Pretty much become Miley Stewart and scheme some stupid shit that ends really really really badly.

"You can't tell me you don't see it! Those bubbles in the sink totally look like a bunny," Brittany exclaims to the blonde girl standing behind her.

I'm hiding behind a rather large, rather smelly, garbage can. Which is ridiculous. I'm twenty eight years old I shouldn't be this immature... but fuck it. She's talking.

"I just don't see it, they look like bubbles to me," the blonde says.

I want to slap her. Seriously, why can't the bitch just play along? If Britt sees a bunny, then there is a fucking bunny there... damn.

"If you don't have an imagination you..."

I'm plugging my ears. Because I know exactly what she's going to say. Because she's said it to me. She's given me this speech. She's beaten it into me with kisses and false promises of forever.

I'm plugging my ears because I can't hear this. I can't hear those words right now from someone who doesn't remember ever saying them before.

I take my hands off my ears at the right... or maybe at the wrong time because she's stopped mid-sentence with a confused expression on her face.

The girl, Quinn I think her name-tag says, is waving her hand in front of Brittany's face.

"Oh sorry I just... remembered something and it was like deja-vu," Brittany says still confused, "it's like I was repeating myself I guess, or said it before... uh forget it I have tables." She walks off with her notepad at hand while grabbing a few straws to tuck into her back pocket.

She remembered... kind of. Which means...

I can't let her completely forget.

I grab a napkin and reach into my purse for a pen... which of course I don't have. I pull out my lipstick and scribble "pinky promise" onto the napkin before folding it up. I look around and spot Brittany's worn backpack stuffed under a counter.

I wait for Quinn to walk off to help a customer before crawling over to the backpack and slipping the napkin into the first zipper I could get open. I stand up and come face to face with Quinn.

She quirks an eyebrow and looks at my name-tag, "Something tells me that you aren't Marcus."

I shrug off the vest, apologize, and walk out but not before taking another look at Brittany who is now looking through her backpack. I stop as she pulls out the napkin. I speed walk out before I can see her reaction.

Belief:

Things can be repressed but never forgotten. They can be pushed to the side but never fully hidden. Our minds are huge filing cabinets and files get lost. However, they can always be found. Wikipedia is always correct. Especially when it says that not all mind erasing procedures are permanent. Wikipedia is a website based on correct knowledge. Especially when it says that things such as words, colors, pictures, objects, and sounds can trigger memories to resurface.

Brittany's procedure was defective. Brittany was going to remember.

Expectation:

Living happily ever after. Making Brittany remember good things, rather than bad things. Not making mistakes once she remembers. Getting married. Having two point five children. Adopting a duck. Growing old...

Keeping pinky promises.

"Brittany stop that tickles," I yell as she's on top of me tickling my sides. She's been going at this for hours. One second we'd be mackin' the next she'd be ticking me like a freakin' mad women.

She stops and laughs as if she's done the funniest thing in the world.

It's moments like these when it seems like love stops times. We're just happy and nothing else matters.

She leans down to kiss the tip of my nose before getting off from on top of me to lay next to me instead. She links our pinkies, and I turn to her confused. I don't have to even ask what she's doing before she starts to explain.

"You'll never forget me, right," she asks?

She does this all of the time. Asks questions like this. Questions that scare me. Like she's planning on leaving or something.

"No. How could I?"

She shrugs and tightens her grip on my pinky.

"Some people forget things that's all. My friends mom got amnesia and like forgot everything when she was old..."

I don't correct her and explain that it's Alzheimer's not amnesia. Mostly because she's scaring me with this conversation and I don't want her to stop talking. I just want to understand where this conversation is going.

"It was really sad. She tried so hard to remember but kept forgetting. I just... pinky promise that you won't forget me?"

I raise our pinkies.

"I'd never let you forget, B."

She gives a small smile before whispering, "Promise?"

"I promise."

I've never claimed to be a good person. I lie. I cheat. I steal your boyfriends. I'm the name on your girlfriends lips and the curse in her hips... I do bad things. I'm not proud of it... okay maybe I am, but if there is one thing I've always made sure to do, no matter what, it's keeping my promises.

Expectations suck. But right now I don't give a fuck because maybe this time they won't. I'm a hypocrite. I'm optimistic even though I don't believe in optimism. I have expectations of good things even though I only believe in the bad. But you know what? Maybe for once in my life my expectations, of helping Brittany remember, will actually show through. Because I need her. I need her. We're soulmates. Artie said so. Brittany is my soulmate. I'm her soulmate. She needs me. I know she still needs me.

You can't erase that.

You can't hide that.

It's always there.

Somewhere in that filing cabinet.

It's just hidden.

Like hide and seek.

I've just got to help her find it all.

I've just got to show her.

Reality:

Waiting. Wanting. Wishing. Anticipating... for something.

Crying because things could get better. Crying because things could get worse. Scheming ways to run into Brittany again. Losing sleep because sleep is for the dead and in this moment there is more important things that sleep. Gathering every memory triggering thing. Planning. Crying more because reality sucks. Crying even more because the expectations are deadly. Reading Wikipedia like life depends on it.

Action:

Not sleeping.

Skipping work.

Going to a field to watch clouds.

Leaving a wildflower in Brittany's backpack.

Going home.

Scheming until late.

Drinking coffee to stay alive.

Repeat.

AN: Okay so I hope I didn't offend anyone with my whole little God rant at the beginning. Sorry if I did though. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Reviews would be lovely. :]