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"And oh how I used to dream 
Of better days that never came 
And sorry ain't nothing to me 
I'm gone, and that's the way it must be"

***

I've laid on the couch for two hours, crying more than I have in the last twenty years and all I can think about is Harry.

I've thought about the look on his face, everything he said and then started to think back to everything since I've known him.

I go through rollercoasters of being devastated, laughing and then to angry.

Devastated over tonight, laughing when I remember all the dumb shit we did together and then angry when I think of Dylan.

Angry when I think of all the times she purposely tried to make him uncomfortable, all the times she was rude to him.

The more I think about all of, the more I feel like a curtain is being pulled back from my eyes and I'm seeing Dylan for who she really is for the first time.

It's so easy to look past her hurting me, because I don't think I deserve much more - but hurting Harry, the notion of that has swung open a door I can't close.

I care about him far more than I care about myself, I know most people would say that's wrong, but half the time I can't even find it in me to like myself, let alone care.

Although, seeing the way he cares about me these few months, has spurred a little spark in me that makes me think I might not be all that bad.

The thought that having Dylan in my life could mean, I'd lose him, I'd lose one of the most wonderful people I've ever met has me really thinking about everything since I've been with her.

I'm always so good at ignoring everything, pushing everything away so I don't have to pay attention to it.

But looking back, I can't seem to justify what Dylan does, when a person I found a friend in a few months ago, treats me better than she has in over eight years.

I kept repeating to myself that I loved her, but now that I'm laying here trying to think of what I actually love about her - I can't really think of a single thing.

The only thing that keeps popping in my head, is that at least she put up with me, and that's all my standards really were.

Do I even love her?

Did I ever love her?

Or did I just convince myself I did because she was interested in me, and I hated myself that much I was convinced I needed to love her, because I should be grateful she even considered me?

I don't even remember when I first thought I loved her to be honest, the only thing I can really remember is when she started telling me what I should do for her, if I really loved her.

Whether it was helping her with money, not questioning her about things, supporting her career - or opening this fucking bar so I could help her pay for her college and career.

I guess I just didn't know by help, she meant fund it completely.

I guess I thought, that's what I was supposed to do.

Since my mother died, I forgot what love even felt like, so I just assumed I did love her, I just didn't know how to feel it properly, so I was relying on her to tell me.

But then... I think of Harry, the warmth and the joy I feel around him, how he brightens my day, makes me laugh harder than anyone else I've met and everything about his presence feels like a warm fuzzy blanket wrapped around you fresh out of the clothes dryer.

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