It’s when I’m walking around, and i smell something, and it smells like the aftershave he used to wear, or I see something, and i remember that we went there, or we planned to go there. It’s when I’m on my own, that my head is clouded with thoughts of him, when I cannot think of anything else but him. It’s when i start to feel like although it’s been months, I made a mistake. it’s when I think that I could’ve put up with the hurt, and the emotions and the way he sometimes mistreated me, but I didn’t, and if I knew I would be this hurt afterwards, then maybe I would have. It’s when my family asks about him two months after everything has happened, and it’s when I have to laugh and act like it doesn’t totally tear a hole inside my heart. It’s when I start to think that I’ll never love anyone like I loved him, and I’ll never have anyone love me like he did. And I’ll never want to. It’s when i look in my wardrobe and I still have his jumpers, and the hoodie he got. It’s when I look at my desk and there is an empty photo frame that he gave me that used to have a picture of us in it. It’s when i see him, and he sees me. And he looks directly at me, with a sense of familiarity that I cannot return as it burns my heart to do so. And that is when it hurts the most.
That is when it hurts the most