There will be nights when you will suddenly be reminded of him, pestered by some semblance of longing and regret. The feeling will make you look back at the memories you have of him, both the good and the bad, and you will sit there in front of your computer, staring at old photos with him that you never had the chance – or the courage – to delete.
You will be reminded of the unfamiliar feeling of being wanted by somebody you have always liked. Everything will come crashing back, too quickly, like a hurried slide show at the back of your lids. You will remember the happiness you never learned to fathom – that kind of happiness you only ever felt with him, because of him, for him.
You will remember how it all started; with a look that said so much more than the words you’ve exchanged. The night he said he liked you, loved you. The nights you went to bed thinking that everything was finally falling into place.
You will remember how you cried the night you realized that what you felt was real, realer than anything you have ever had. It was the first time you actually shed tears of joy. You thought you finally figured out what love was, that it was neither bliss nor pain – it was hope. He made you feel hopeful of life, of what is yet to come. He made you want to stay alive.
Then you will remember just how it ended – slowly, with words that you never understood. He kept saying he felt the same, until the words felt hollow. You still insisted that it was just a rough patch, you’ll get through this. He would come back. He would figure things out for you. He said he loved you and he meant it. He had to.
It took you too long before you had the guts to accept the truth that he never did. Maybe until now, you still haven’t completely embraced it. After all, who can ever find ease in embracing something that only leaves you bleeding over and over?
You think to yourself if knowing the truth was ever worth it, because now you struggle to find something new to hold on to. He is gone; he might never come back, and you’re on your own, tending to the wounds he left you with, clueless to how to move forward.
You will realize that you have been faking it all along, since the day he finally shut you out for good. You never figured out how to comfort yourself when you know that you have loved, but had never been loved, because you were not pretty enough or good enough or smart enough or funny enough for him. You have never spent a day not blaming yourself. When hope faded, pain was all there ever was.
There will be nights when the truth will haunt you again, even when you try so hard to forget about it. You will be reminded of everything that had happened, and it will taste bittersweet.
But what you must understand is that yesterday will haunt you, not for you to reopen healing wounds, but for you to be reminded that once, you had hope. And you need that hope in order for you to go on: hope for what is yet to happen, hope that you will get better.