I remember that it hurt, looking at him hurt. I remember the way I used to light up when he walked into a room. I remember feeling forgotten and replaced when I saw him kissing someone new at a party. Eventually I stopped going to them and eventually people stopped asking me why.

I remember how difficult it was to pack all of his things into one tiny shoe box. I thought I could burn the pictures of us without wanting to look through them, but I was very wrong. After three months of avoiding it, my mom finally placed the box by the curb on trash day. All of our memories were gone and that was the first time I remember feeling a little bit of relief.

He no longer existed in a box of memories tucked underneath my bed, collecting dust. Which meant that I was one step closer to him not existing in my life at all. It was both a good and a bad feeling. He used to be a ghost that haunted my every waking moment and sometimes even my dreams. Eventually, I learned to stop letting him consume me.

I remember how hard I thought it would be to rid myself of him completely. We had the same friends, we took classes on the same campus - avoiding each other seemed impossible. That wasn't the answer, I could not run from my fears or my problems. I needed to be okay with seeing him.

We do not exchange friendly hello's or high fives, instead we act like strangers. Strangers who used to sneak out to see each other, strangers who shared the same bed, strangers who planned a future together. It is crazy to me that two people who used to love each other with every ounce of their beings could act like one another does not exist, yet we did exactly that.

I am still not sure how I got over him. I used to lay in my bed aching for him to come back, I used to think I could never love someone that deeply ever again. I stopped doubting my ability to move on, I stopped feeling sorry for myself. "These things happen to every body, so build a bridge and get over it," I told myself on a daily basis. Eventually, I did just that.

I am sure people were surprised when I started to show up at parties again, him especially. I went from being the girl who left 80 voicemails on his phone the night he broke up with me to the girl who forgot his name. He would be lying if he said that did not hurt him a little.

I went from being the girl who thought she could never get over him, to being the girl that is happy as hell that she was finally able to.