Rough [H.S.]

ten.

t.w.- alchohol use

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I tell myself you don't mean a thing
And what we got, got no hold on me
But when your not there I just crumble
I tell myself I don't care that much
But I feel like I die 'til I feel your touch
Only love, only love can hurt like this
Song: Only Love Can Hurt Like This by Paloma Faith

December

139 times. Harry tried to contact me 139 times. 102 texts, 36 calls, and 1 small package which I never opened.

I didn't block his number. I should have. It would have made moving on a hell of a lot easier but I just couldn't. A part of me needed to know that he still cared. That it meant something to him too even though he told me it didn't.

So I silenced all notifications from his number. I ignored all calls and didn't open any of his texts. When he sent the package in November, I tucked it away in my bedroom so I wouldn't be tempted to open it.

And I tried to move on with my life. I didn't do the typical post-breakup rituals where I tore up and deleted all the pictures of us. I didn't get rid of the couple articles of clothing he had left. I didn't block him on my socials. I didn't want to forget about Harry. He would always hold a place in my heart, that much I knew. There was no use in trying to forget about him. All I wanted to be able to do was accept that we had something and then we lost it and be able to move on from him.

Easier said than done.

It was fucking hard. I spent most of the first weeks crying or sleeping. I went to school, worked a few hours for my dad, and then came home and laid on the couch, crying over Harry until I fell asleep. It didn't matter where I was, everything reminded me of him. Everytime I took a shower, I thought about our last time together, how he gently washed my body before fucking me against the shower wall, holding me close to him as he told me how perfect I was. I could hardly even sleep in my own bed because I thought about all the times we were together. My pillows still smelled like him for the first week or two after he had left, that comforting mixture of vanilla, mint, and his natural, musky scent. Once the smell started to fade, I contemplated buying a bottle of his cologne so I could always smell him but I convinced myself that was crossing into crazy ex-girlfriend territory.

And technically, I wasn't even his ex-girlfriend. We never had a title or made things official. It had just been a summer fling. Harry had made that clear from the start. But somewhere along the line, I became too attached and let myself fall in love.

I forced myself to take things a day at a time. I saw my therapist more than typical and tried to be gentle on myself. It was hard not to beat myself up for falling so hard after only three months but my therapist assured me my feelings were valid. That I loved hard and lost hard and that I should allow myself as long as I needed to grieve the loss of Harry in my life.

So I did. I took my time and I worked on myself. I took the time to do things that made me happy. I enrolled in a yoga class, picked up journaling, and bought a shit-ton of new house plants and vinyl records. I worked on not being a people pleaser all the time, especially if it was at the sacrifice of my own mental well-being. I finally sat my dad down and told him that I didn't enjoy working at his firm and that I was never going to be a lawyer. I increased the amount of classes I was taking and was able to finish my degree early, graduating from my program just last week. I also moved out of the guest house and into a place of my own. Well, I moved into an apartment with Eliza and Natalie.