A year ago, a boy I loved was no longer a large part of my life. My first real experience might have been a toxic long distance relationship full of brutal honesty and hard life lessons. The irony of the situation was that even to this day because of how he came into my life, quickly and all at once before exiting like the spark he was. A part of my heart still breaks just hearing his name, I wonder, I think about him, even after all the pain, there are few kinds of love that stay after they’ve been through a painful trauma, but you see it now, it exists. I wonder how he can love when he wanted an open relationship, he wanted to see other people sexually while I was the one lost to wondering if I still had a decent place in his life. I remember how dark this day really was, anger, frustration, the terrible human emotion coming to life before it would be pain and trauma. It’s not fair of the past to say that I still love him, I do however feel a glow in a sensitive and sentimental way. Somewhere in the parts of my heart that I can’t completely understand, the day that was bleak was nothing more than a single day in the passing of the past. I cried my eyes out that day and usually I never cry, a strict childhood will do that to you. It was a confusing time, learning, hurting inside, crying, and yet all the pain in the world didn’t make me any happier. I accept what happened even if it was a painful experience, it was still an experience nonetheless, which I guess to some would not be enough to proceed in a healthy way, though for me I was struggling through bigger problems. Even now the surreal part about all those three months is that I blamed myself when in the real truth, that was on him. It was on him, but I don’t blame him because it does no good to blame others, pointing fingers, throwing around the resentment like it was poison. No the harm was already done, I don’t hate him, he actually thought I did months ago, I suppose people have their own way of assuming the worst of someone they love, or maybe we are that cynical and selfish deep down, I’d like to believe otherwise. I remember how seductive and caring his eyes were, how much pain they held, just as did his body. I saw that pain and that love trying to be something more, just as I saw my own pain and my own life becoming something much more. Love is a complicated mix of compassion, selfish thoughts, selfless deeds, and long nights waiting and wondering. It’s even the lost time we spent making memories that never became a reality, only a dream. November was the end of 2015 for me, I spent my time after finding ways in which my heart might heal, and finding ways to repair what was lost. To this day I miss him, I am conflicted by the past and the past knows what I mean, the heart that is a messy place only continued as love and compassion mended his broken heart. I should know, it mended mine too.