This marks the end of 6 eventful weeks. Some people will say six weeks is nothing and that I'm being childish but six weeks was enough for me to fall head over heels in love with a walking destruction. 6 weeks ago I became his girl. I became the girl who was owned by a ticking time bomb. Suicide. That's all it was. Death in human form. Yet I loved him. His cute laugh. The way he would never smile for photos but instead slight close one eye and open the other one as wide as he could to look as though he was trying to make silly faces. I fell for the way his eyes sparkled even in the dark and I fell in love with a bow broken home. A heart I believed to be pure gold turned out to be a rusty chest filled with lies and disbelief. Yet I was blinded by the idea of someone being able to love the broken embodiment of a home with no love. A skip filled with hate and anger quickly painted over with mistaken feelings all for the sake of six weeks of happiness. If only it was six weeks of happiness. Instead it was four weeks of happiness. The honeymoon stage of every relationship. Then two weeks of constant tears and pain and self hatred. Only to reach the realisation that I may never have fell in love with him, just the idea of being loved by someone other than my best friend. Maybe I only loved not feeling so alone. I don't know but what I do know if that he's never coming back. I also know that I could never go back. I skipped suicide this time but to go back would be like jumping off a cliff and praying that I survive knowing full well I would die. Loving him was suicide. I'm angry but I still love him. This could be a long recovery or a short recovery. This could be and Alex or a Dylan but either way, it will still hurt and I don't think I will be able to put myself in the position where I'm so vulnerable to someone's words to the point where I fall hopelessly in love with them and become blinded by their lies and false promises again. I don't know where I will go from here but I know it will be wherever he isn't.
