I met her on a Tuesday.

I met her in the parking lot of my favorite coffee house. I was in my old bones and sheltered skin and I swear she was the calm before the storm. I should've known better than to drink up her gray eyes but she looked like home and I've never been so intrigued by a fireplace heart.

She left shortly after her first hello and I wish the moment was longer than it was. I remember standing by her driver side window and hearing her say my name for the first time. I felt like every possible thought that could've been in my head was replaced with the echo of her voice saying good bye. I never wanted her to go.

And my god, was she beautiful.

I fell in love with her on a Wednesday.

She was warm; burning. I remember burning her name into the soles of shoes so that I knew the journey would always lead straight to her. I find myself calling her from a hospital phone in the middle of April. Some days I can still feel the frozen touch of the payphones pressed to my ear. Some days I can still hear her laugh ringing through my ears.

Yeah…I definitely fell in love with her on a Wednesday.

We held hands on a Thursday.

And I don't mean in a way as if we were just crossing the street. I mean in the way where I felt the planets aligning and the stars were coming together. Where I felt as if every solar system was laced within her fingers and they all clashed into one when I intertwined my fingers with hers. I mean in the way where I felt more than just satellites and constellations; I mean in the way where I felt the whole goddamn galaxy in the palm of her hands.

We had our first movie night on a Friday.

Although I do remember barely watching the movie—and no. It wasn't like that. We spent more time huddling next to each other and focusing on how nervous we were rather than actually watching the movie. She asked me if I would hold her. I asked her if that was what she wanted.

I remember her slowly moving her way over to me and laying her head on my chest.

She talked about how my heart sounded like every beat to her favorite songs.

On Saturday I asked her out on a date.

We drove through the country roads with our hands flying out the windows and the radio blaring to every golden oldie song we can think of. I remember how nervous she said she was to hold my hand. I remember the smile on her face when I grabbed hers myself.

She had to leave that night.

When I asked her if I'd see her tomorrow she replied, "For the best date of my life, right?" I remember seeing her so flustered that she was staring at me instead of her rearview mirrors. She ended up backing up into the telephone pole in my front yard. To this day I can still see the dent.

It reminds me of her crooked smile.

On Sunday we laughed until our lungs gave out.

We went out for ice cream and did our homework at the coffee shop that brought us together. We talked about our favorite colors, I told her mine was the color of her cheeks when she smiled at me. She told me hers was the giant stain of strawberry cheesecake ice cream that was lying on the corner of my mouth.

What a smart ass.

On Monday we kissed for the first time.

She told me how she could've kept going if I allowed her. But I had to drive and she needed to get some rest. I remember at every green light she'd kiss my hand and at every red light she'd kiss my cheek. I stopped at a gas station and got her a slurpee. I remember kissing her through the window as I put $4.72 into my tank.

Driving her home I remember going back through those country roads and laughing until our lungs couldn't take it. Her hand in mine, my heart with hers. I remember pulling over onto the side of the road because she spilled the slurpee all over us and the seats. Instead of cleaning it up, we ended up throwing it at each other. I remember the mind numbing laughter and the brain freeze kisses. The stains are still on my seat to this day.

On Tuesday she said goodbye as she left for the final time.

Told me she loved me. Told me she didn't take back any loving word she said.

And I never saw her again.

I know that I say that time will heal all and that seasons will soon pass and that all will be fine.

But I can’t deny that my heart was a little bruised from losing a person that wasn't even mine.

She reminded me of snowy mornings and fall evenings all at once. The crust in my eyes and the mittens on my hands. From throwing snowballs and having bonfires, she reminded me of the first snowfall and the crunch of the leaves. I remember wishing it was Spring. She wasn't there when the flowers bloomed, I knew I wouldn't find her there.

Losing her really taught me something.

It taught me that I will fall down and take seven steps back in any progress that I've made. That I will stay on the ground and wallow in my pity and let the worst of the situation get to me. But it has taught me that I will never get better until I choose to pick myself up and keep going.

It taught me that I am strong. That any progress made is better than nothing. I will take seven steps back and two steps forward, but I am still moving forward. I was once told that charting progress is important. A year would never pass if we never kept track of the days.

I've come a long way and I will never forget that.

And you must remember this:

You are going to be heartbroken. You are going to be knocked down to your knees and you will feel like you are never going to get back up.

You are going to cry and people aren't going to care. You are going to be sitting at a diner at 3am in a booth that's meant for two but instead of someone sitting across from you there'll be an empty seat with the echo of you swearing to yourself that this would never happen again. You try to read the menu because you thought you could keep yourself together long enough to focus on someone else's words instead of your own thoughts—but you can't.

You can't because your head is so loud and the world is so quiet and you know that no one is going to walk by and ask if you're okay.

You are going to cry and cry and cry and people won't notice—nor will they care. You are going to constantly fall apart and you are going to break your own heart.

However, you know you have to keep going. You know you have to stay strong.

Strong enough to touch the damage without retreating and strong enough to push through the damage without fleeing. You are allowed to run away if only you are running towards something bigger. You are allowed to cry as long as you remember to not drown. And you are allowed to break your own heart… as long as you remember to pick up the pieces.

So go home and look in the mirror. Stare a little longer, look a little closer. And learn to love yourself just a little harder.

When all is said and done, only you can heal your own wounds.

You have to remember that they may have bruised you, but they have not broken you.

You have to remember that even though you fell in love with someone so easily, you still have the ability to love yourself just as well.

And you will, you will love yourself just as much as you wanted them to love you.