If love was written on the bed, we would have been on New York Times Best Selling list. We were that good. But if love was to be felt like a warm whisper on a cold February night, we would have made each other deaf -- note the contrast. It was not our fault. We were young. Our bodies dictated our feelings. Maybe, we didn't know how to love anyone at that age. We knew the kind of love we saw in the movies. We didn't read poetry, then. Even if we did, we only read the roses and didn't think of the unmentioned thorns that grow with it. Love was linear to us, not multi-dimensional - one kiss, a phone call, and a handsome boyfriend. And that linear love resulted in only one emotion after our breakup. It made me angry. I held onto that anger till 24. Then, time took care of it. You become that memory I buried in the someone's backyard. Well, I was afraid of even burying it in my own. You were my biggest mistake. I moved on but carried the dead weight with me all th