The worst part about losing someone isn’t losing the person -- it’s the memories that come back to haunt you. It's the flashbacks of what used to be. It’s knowing that they’re a part of you and that there’s nothing you can do about it. It’s seeing their face in every crowd. It’s the dreams. The dreams where you two are together again and it feels like the world you once lived in. It's waking up in the middle of the night and reaching over, only to realize they aren’t laying next to you. Too many days I find myself wishing it didn't hurt so much, but I know that I never want to erase what happened.

I remember when we met. You said four words and I knew you were going to change my life.

I remember the first day of school. I was a freshman and you were a sophomore. I was dying to see your face and, right before first block, I looked down the hall and saw you walk through the doors. You were wearing a grey T-shirt. I always loved you in grey.

I remember two months later, when it was a cold November night and we went to a football game together. We sat under a tree at the back of the field. You pulled me in and I rested my head on your chest as you ran your fingers through my hair. I wanted to kiss you so badly that night.

I remember the first time we did kiss. You took my hand and pulled me into your lap as you wrapped your arms around my waist. My heart was racing so fast and I couldn’t breathe as you leaned in and brushed your lips against mine. That night replays over and over in my head; we were so happy.

I remember you calling me at 2 a.m. to say, “I love you, beautiful.” I laid in bed wide awake after that, wondering how I ever got so lucky.

I remember when it was February and we were sitting outside. You cradled me in your lap and teased me as I died of laughter, and you kissed me like a little girl while our friends joked that one day we’d get married.

I remember when our long conversations into all hours of the night turned into nonstop arguing and one word responses.

I remember when we ended things. I stared in the mirror all night and cried because I wasn’t good enough for you. My eyes are always the prettiest when I cry.

I remember trying to get you back. You said we could only be “friends.” But friends don’t kiss and say “I love you” every night.

I remember hoping you’d come around, but then you told me you were seeing someone else. I watched you fall in love with that girl.

I remember staring at her as she walked down the hall in your hoodie. All I could think about was how I would give anything to be her because she had you.

I remember our friends asking me about you. I smiled and told them I was happy for you as I fought back the tears.

I remember my parents asking me if I was OK. I’d say, “I’m just really tired.” But that was never the truth.

I remember all the sleepless nights and missing you so much that I couldn’t breathe.

I remember the confusion on people's faces when I told them about you. Everyone wondered why I didn’t hate you, and I found myself at a loss for words because I didn’t know how to explain to them that the feeling doesn’t go away just because the person does.

I remember you randomly checking up on me, only for us to argue some more. It’s not fair how you come and go as you please.

I remember when you broke up with your girlfriend after almost two years. I hoped you’d be mine again.

I remember when I found you sitting in my passenger seat last summer. It only took four years for us to talk like we used to.

I remember leaving your house at 3 a.m. four months ago. I keep mistaking your drunken charm for love.

I remember how we fought that night because I wanted more from you and you just wanted me when you were lonely.

I remember driving away and realizing it was over. I’m never going to get you the way I want you.

Sometimes I zone out in the car and I snap back to reality at the sight of a black truck because that’s what you drive. I see couples everywhere and I think about how our hands were laced together in bed every night. I'm constantly catching myself saying the same things you do and acting the same way you do. I guess you’ll always be a part of me.

Throughout my life, I have heard that heartbreak is beautiful and poetic. It's one thing I have never understood. To me it’s like a never-ending nightmare. Watching your entire world collapse around you and crying in your sleep for eight months straight is such an inexplicable feeling. It's horrible. You beg the night to let you drift off into a dream only to wake up and realize that nothing has changed and nothing is better. When you lose someone, you lose yourself. You feel empty and you walk around in a blurry world of gray with an irreplaceable ache and longing in your chest.

It has taken me a while to understand what people meant, and what I have learned is that, although getting your heart broken is far from beautiful, the struggle and the recovery are. All those late nights, puffy red eyes and days spent moving through the motions allow you to find yourself. Over time, you fall in love with who you are and with life all over again. You learn to take care of yourself and put your needs above all else. During your darkest hours, you see who your real friends are and you grow into a person you never once thought you were capable of being. Sometimes losing someone you love is exactly what you need in order to become something better.