The last few months have been hell. I didn’t even realise how much I relied on my ex-boyfriend until we broke up. Now it’s all over, I feel…lifeless. Empty. Dead. But the days go by and I manage. It’s still a struggle though, to keep my head above the water, to keep going, to keep fighting against…well yes, against what exactly? The dreams, the memories, the constant feeling that something is missing, that something is gone? Fighting against the depression, the urge to give up, to let it all go, to drift into that familiar state where I don’t have to care about anything or anyone – not even myself. It’s easier to stop fighting and to just give in, but I can’t, I won’t. It’s just that well…I feel lost. So utterly and completely lost that I don’t know where to go but every road looks the same, dull and boring, and nothing is even remotely interesting. I’ve been through just about every post-break-up phase possibly, ranging from hysteria and cry-fests to not-caring, hatred and anger and every fucking thing in between.

I’ve hid myself in my room and stared at our picture for hours; I’ve gone out all night, gotten drunk and did all that stuff drunk people do; I’ve studied nights in a row because I couldn’t sleep at all. I remember packing my bags and planning to leave, actuallly leaving but then eventually returning; I’m nineteen: running isn’t an option anymore. I’ve done every possible thing I could think off to get over my ex-boyfriend, but I can’t. I can’t let it go. My mind is working against me. Every night, I keep running down the options: why did he do the things he did, why did I do the things I did, what the fuck happened to us? I mean: I remember us being happy, hell, I remember me being happier than I’ve been in years! The worst part is that I don’t know how to be happy again. There are shadows where there used to be only light. I’ve been whining about this to my friends for so long that I think I’m starting to annoy them. But I know why I can’t let go. Why I can’t just move on.

I don’t care anymore whatever it meant to him. To me, it was real, the real thing, real love, the sort of love you find once in a lifetime. The connection between souls where you feel what your partner feels before he even has to tell you. I’m not going to find that again and I don’t want to find it either. Because you know what it means when I let it go, when I give up and move on, when I stop missing him? It means it wasn’t real. It will completely ruin the fairytale-image I have of it. It will mean that it’s just another “simple” relationship, nothing special, nothing at all what I made from it. I’m an idiot for thinking like that, but it’s exactly how my brain works. If I get over it, if I let it go, then it wasn’t the real thing. And for some reason, I want it to have been real. I want all that pain and confusion to have had a purpose.

So, I went through finals. Failed a couple, had to do them again during summer. They won’t be good. I hardly care. University used to be everything to me. It used to mean the world. It was my goal, go to law school, become a lawyer. Fulfill your dream. It’s not my dream anymore. Or maybe it is, but I’m too busy trying to escape my pain to actually see it. It’s like I’ve put my life on hold until the pain is over. And I’m filling up the holes in my heart with new activities, with new hobbies, but I don’t have any room left for love. I don’t want to love anyone right now. I just want to keep busy until it’s all over, the pain, the hurt, the feeling of being betrayed. So next year, school-wise, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ll try to study more, I’ll try to make it my dream again, but I don’t know if I can. I’ll try to learn from this experience and become a stonger person, but I’m afraid all it’s making me do, is caring less and less about people in general.

For those of you who are wondering, I haven’t heard from my ex-boyfriend in two, nearly three months. It’s been more than six months since we broke up. I should have been over him by now, but I’m not. Every bloody thing reminds me of him. I miss him and hell, I still love him. One day, all of that will dissapear. But that day is not today. Today I’m hurting my best friend because I cannot love anyone that special way anymore. Today I’m breaking someone else’s heart because mine is broken too. It sucks and I don’t want to do it, but I can’t love anyone (as in boyfriend-girlfriend love) until my heart is healed. It’s healing, I know, slowly, but I’ll get there. This time, I won’t run anyway. I’ll face my demon.