There was a cross on the wall of our family house. Every now and then, I'd walk up to it and just stare at it for hours. I didn't know why. I knew it meant nothing to me. But at night, when only the darkest parts of my mind are awake, I'd think about it and how much it actually affected my life. My parents didn't know about anything; at times I thought they were just playing dumb.
I fell in love. I was 17 years old, no one loved me until she came along. She fixed me and at times I believed that she didn't love me. As time went by, I had to convince myself that she did.
And I felt broken. And I felt sad.
I lost her. I lost my old life. I lost my afternoon tea that I had everyday at 5:37pm. I lost my old books in which I highlighted my favourite quotes. I lost my mixtapes and my art.
I lost my cross.
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