A whole year later ... That me is a vague memory. That me is so dead and gone that it would be a lie to say that I resemble him whatsoever.
A whole year of bottled up pain. Of opportunities to climb out met by false hope. A whole year to try and build myself back up.
A whole year to break over and over and over.
My life now is desolate. It's void of true genuine closeness. I've lost my best friend. Had my heart permanently scarred. I look forward to things that are meaningless. I look forward to hole that I know is hollow. I look forward to one day not needing to practice the smile in the mirror. But I know that day won't come. That day ... Is as fictional as my confidence.
That day ... One whole year later.
