Her POV:

I miss him so much. I miss someone who was never mine. I miss someone I never truly knew. I miss someone who didn't care. But I miss him nonetheless. He made me so happy at one point...

I just wish I could hear his voice again. Hear his laugh or see his smile. I want to relive that first month with him. When I felt untouchable, when he laid my insecurities to rest and I was adamant we were endgame.

How did I not see it? Oh, but I did. I even told myself it was going to happen. But I fed into the delusions simply because they made me feel good. I think that's what drugs are like. I think that's why so many people say love is the worst drug of all.

I want to feel his touch again. I remember the way his hand held mine. I remember the smell of his cologne. I still can't get over our first date, I had spent so long with my spine at an awkward angle in that movie theater seat with my head on his shoulder, his hand entwined with mine, my right foot cross with his left, that I just had to stretch my spine. I remember when he turned to me the moment I got up and said "where are you going?" with a laugh and pulled me back to lay on his shoulder.

I want to feel that kind of joy again. I remember the way I would die of laughter when we played COD together. The innuendos, the game play, the goofing off. That shit truly made me happy.

It's still hard to believe none of it was real. Some nights I like to let myself dwell on and think of it all like it was, but that's so much more damaging than telling myself it was all bullshit. Because if it was real, how could be truly lose feelings that fast for another girl? Exactly. I know it was never real for him and I was just another trophy for him to gain. I've accepted that, it doesn't mean I'm okay with it, but it's a hard truth I've been learning to swallow.

The dreams are the worst though. I go to sleep hating his guts, dream of the old him, and then wake up crying. Every time I start to mourn my broken heart and get to the stage where I'm starting to get over him, something always pulls me back to craving him. Wanting him. Aching for him. It's a brutal cycle that I just want to end.

I can't even bring myself to delete his pictures. That's what also makes it hard. Whenever I miss him I always go back to look at his smile, listen to his laugh, or just reminisce about my naive belief, when I still thought there was good in guys.

I remember how the night he broke up with me I relapsed and started to self-harm again. That night I kept replaying the memory in my head of when he had seen some messages between a friend of mine and I, about how I had nearly relapsed while we were still together. And he had called me to ask why I would even think about doing something like that, and his voice broke and he told me to never think of hurting myself again.

It's memories like that, that haunt me at night. Why pretend to care so much if you had ulterior motives? Why put in so much effort if I was just part of your agenda? So much I still can't wrap my head around or even process because I still can't believe how well versed he was in the native tongue of 'damaged girl'.

I spend so many mornings laying numb, wishing I could hear his ringtone again. Wishing he would call me like clockwork before he got out of school. I still remember his school and work schedule...

I can't listen to certain artists because of him, I can't watch certain shows/movies because of him, I can't eat certain foods or drink certain drinks because of him. He has put a halt to the things I love because I loved him and wanted to include him in the things that brought me joy. My favorite movie, my favorite shows, my favorite songs, my favorite drink, my favorite color. Ruined. All ruined because he's a selfish prick who only cares about himself.

I still find it hard to come to terms with that fact that I knew what was going to happen and yet I didn't stop it because I so desperately wanted to believe he was different than to rest. Like an idiot.