Why Do I Think of You

I just had a memory of Chris and I running along the waterfront; him getting frustrated and grumpy because I ran more quickly and with more perseverance while I just tried to accommodate by slowing down, taking shorter strides.

What the Hell makes me couch this whole memory in an "I'm so good, he's so lame" fit?
I'm not contented with being the child looking back on something and thinking of themselves as innocent.

I'm not innocent.

I haven't been innocent.

Perhaps of his betrayal...but then again that's over.
Why do I not embrace that it's truly done?