Broken Hearts

Knight, Today marks a year since you left us. Some days, the grief consumes me; other days, the good memories flood my mind. And then there are the days I can remember nothing but the bad that happened between us. But every day, I remember you. That day I lost you, I lost something inside me — something central to my existence. I think if soul mates exist, then that’s what we were, brought together by the fate of eight strangers picked to live in a house. You and I always joked that we would never have dated if we’d met in real life (let’s be real, I didn’t like white boys and you had a thing for dumb blondes). But I’m so thankful we ended up in that house together. And even though falling in love while filming a television show isn’t a normal love story, it was ours. And it was...

We were so close, we were such good friends. I looked forward to your name appearing on my phone screen and always smiled when I read your messages or opened your snaps. We always laughed together. I have more inside jokes with you from our three-month friendship than I do with friends I've had for three years. It has been a month since we've talked. I guess I knew you were interested in me. I pretended that you weren't though, just like I always do. When friends would ask I would immediately reply "Oh god no! We're just friends." They knew better, and if I'm being honest with myself, so did I. And then I messed up. Like I always do. But this time I haven't stopped thinking about it since. I guess I knew he was interested in me too. But, of course, I pretended he wasn't. And...

I remember being in my college dorm, awoken by the sound of my ringing cell phone at 2AM. It had been weeks now: the same phone call from the same person, and the same conversation every night. A dear friend of mine wasn’t just suffering from depression, he was completely consumed by it. During those phone calls, he wasn’t the friend who rode shotgun with me in the summer and laughed at my jokes. He was someone I didn’t recognize. That’s what depression does to someone, especially in the late hours of the night when serotonin levels aren’t balanced and their mind is racing with worries. It all seemed to come out at 2AM, and I listened to every word. One of the hardest things about watching a friend suffer was the dark place he took me to as he reached for my hand. He told me...

what I have for you is not love, you said. but your name still echoes in my head, your face never seems to fade, memories of us still linger in me, the thought of your smile still gives me butterflies, and remembering the way you used to look at me makes my heart ache. so if this is not love then tell me why, why the fuck am I like this? I catch myself thinking about you a pretty significant amount throughout the day, and that makes things a hell of a lot worse because I’m almost certain you don’t think of me. during the day it isn’t half as bad as it gets at night though. right now it’s eleven and i’m only on the second paragraph but the tears are already flowing. I never would’ve thought that I’d start my freshman year at SHSU and end up falling in love, especially not with someone...