One Sunday night, my entire world changed. This was the night she left me. She had been hinting for a week, but it was up to me to say we were over.

As soon as we hung up, I went to my room. The window was wide open, letting in a cold breeze. I crawled to a corner of the dark room and, before I knew it, I felt tears rolling down my face.

The following weeks were just as depressing. I went from class to class, not paying attention to what was going on around me. All I could do was think about her and the great times we’d had together, not just as a couple, but as friends. There seemed to be no hope.

I had friends to help me through, but it seemed most of them didn’t understand. “Forget about her” was all I heard. They didn’t understand I wasn’t only missing the love of my life but my best friend, too.

There were a few close friends who actually respected to my situation, mostly because they had been through it themselves. They gave advice when they could, but none of it really helped me. This was something I had to deal with on my own. Eventually, school came to a close and summer began. I just moped around, going along with whatever was planned, participating in things I now regret. Someone would say things like, “Why do you look so sad? What’s wrong with you?” Yet, I had no answer.

The sun still rose every day (I know because that would usually be when I went to sleep) and the days and months passed. All this gave me time to think. There finally came a time when I could say I was over her.

When I think back to that period, I feel I learned a lot from the experience. Even with the loneliness and pain, it turned out for the best in the end. I learned a lesson of love and learned it the hard way, the only way you can.