Somebody loved me.

Of all the crazy things that have happened and are still happening in life, this is probably the strangest thing of them all. 

Somebody actually loved me. 

I'm a gargoyle. I lie. I am untrustworthy. I moan. I am negative. I am opinionated. I am a loser.

Anything really is possible. Even though the love doesn't exist anymore, it happened and it was amazing. 

A long time ago, one of my college tutors told me that I should take my own advice as I gave good advice. But for some reason, I just never take my own advice. 

I feel very empty. I get periods of crying but then nothing. Just really down. It is a very difficult thing to accept that I am not loved anymore. But I suppose it can be a very easy thing to take for granted too. But it happened. It may not happen ever again (maybe I don't ever want it to happen again).

But for some part of my life, it happened. 

It was there. It was real. It was lovely. It made life seem worthwile. 

And even though it is over, surely just the fact that somebody loved me once is enough to maybe keep getting through the days and to keep me going in life?