It hit me the hardest

- It just occurred to me. He'll never see this. I don't know if anybody will. But this is a bit of my life he's got no control over. I think I'm going mad. It's been a year. He's everywhere I look. Nobody understands.

 - I don't understand it either.
- It's like something irreversible, a chemical reaction which cannot be undone. But only for me. Miles away, he smiles, he laughs, he calls, he's happy. And so am I. 

- Whenever I tell the story, I skip out bits. I keep the worst bits to myself, bite down till they bleed, hoping that otherwise it's just a tragic love story. Can I write the whole story? I want to try. But I don't want him to find me. I don't think I can claim to be embarrassed any more - I've had enough opportunities to move on. I agree with people that he's a bastard. But it's not enough. I want to stamp the truth out of this story. Once, please.

- I remember. I remember that smile, and the day it started. I remember what he said as you watched me play the piano. I remember twisting my ankle. I remember the first texts. I remember the last texts. I remember all three of us. I remember the two of us. I remember the piano and the lights and your answerphone message (I saved it for days). I remember every drink we drank, everything we ever sang, and every single hug. I remember believing every word. I remember new years. I remember easter. I dont remember crying. I remember how easy it was to hate and love you at the same time. I remember when you said you loved me. I remember it was a joke. I remember the international texts, you paying 56p telling me I was beautiful. I remember telling you that I thought you were great. I remember us hating ourselves. I remember being weak and failing. I remember the three-hour phonecalls. I remember the silences. I don't remember being the one to hang up. I remember never being close enough. I remember our last hug. I remember the day I told the truth. I remember the day I told a lie. I remember the first song I wrote being about you. I remember every song being about you.

- I feel better, I think I do, at least. I'll probably think of a thousand things I should have put in there tonight. My key memory is being in far too deep and being scared off my tits. The key elements are there.
- I don't tell people most of those memories because they hurt too much to think about. I worry if I put too much good or too much bad in, people will draw their own conclusions. People still do.
- Would a normal romance have been the same? Without the caffeine, without the insomnia, without the music, without the tension, would I still feel like this, drowning in uncertainty? Working it out is like fighting on ice, nothing is decided for certain, no purchase can be found anywhere.

Most honest of all.

- I'm not alone. Everyone who loved you once still loves you. And you know it. Fuckwit.

- Stay away from me.

- Try that again and I will have you.