It’s been five years since I got my heart broken for the first time. The moment my stomach fell to my feet when I realised you were gone, forever. I didn’t even know if I was going to make it to the age you did; 17.
When you suffer heartache at the age of 14, you don’t want life to go on. The thought of waking up everyday and you not being able to, made my heart tremble. The agonising pain and hurt I felt daily for years and years, feeling isolated and confused why it wasn’t me. I was sinking and you were the only one keeping me floating, how was I going to float without you?
Every single day, I blamed myself for the fact that you became an angel, and not me.
I thought my heart would heal again if I gave it to someone else. That concluded with another aching heart, and more pain for years.
Heartbreak is not easier than grief. But at least you know they’re still there. Still breathing.
I miss you so fucking much. I hope I’ve lived my life for you, and made you proud. You’ll always be my angel.
Memories are raw, and I really wish I had another one with you.