I hated him for the longest time for walking away from me that day. But then I hated myself for a lot longer. I hated myself for not being strong enough, not being brave enough, for just not being enough. Not being enough for him.
He said that he deserved more and he was right. I didn't want to think so at the time but he was.
But you know what? I deserved more too.
I deserved more from him, more understanding and more patience.
Eventually I realised what it was that we both deserved more of and that was time.
It had all been so crazy, so rushed, from the moment I first realised how I felt for him my life seemed to speed past in a blur, not giving me time to step back and think. Not giving me the time I to evaluate what it was that I really wanted and needed. I became someone that I didn't know, I did things that I would never have expected, I cheated and I lied and I hurt the people who least deserved it. I did all of that in the name of love. I did it for him.
Even before our lives became complicated by the sex I loved him. I might not have been willing to call it love at the start, after all you only admit you love your mates if you're really drunk. But I did love him. We connected in a way I never expected or experienced before. We were so different, we shouldn't have gelled at all. But we did. It was like we had always known each other, always been friends and for a while I thought we always would be.
I've often asked myself if I regret what I did the day I first told him how I felt. And of course some of it I do regret. But not telling him how much I wanted him and not sleeping with him. Whatever else happens in my life I won't ever regret that. For a while I felt like I knew who I was and it was a feeling that nothing else has been able to recreate. And I've tried. Believe me I've tried.
I started a new life when I got to Dublin. A new me. Nobody knew my past, nobody knew who I was or what I had done so I got to start with a clean slate, I got to reinvent myself afresh.
And I've made new friends, good friends, friends that I can rely on and friends that I cherish. And I go out and I have fun and I drink and I dance and I party and I have sex.
And I miss him.
Underneath it all I still miss him.
It's been twelve months since he walked away from me. Twelve months since he let me down, since I let him down, since we let each other down. Twelve months of moving on while standing still. Twelve months since I last walked the streets of Hollyoaks village.
One year ago today my dreams were shattered. And in that year I tried to forget while being desperate to remember. I tried to let go while still wanting to hold on. And I finally realised that I have to know.
Did we really have something special or was it only ever a silly dream that is best left to fade into memories?
I don't know what he's been doing in the past year. I never asked and no one ever told me. Has he forgotten me and moved on? It's possible, I know that and if he has, if he can look at me without that overwhelming shine of love in his eyes then I know I'll be able to move on as well.
So today, one year to the day after I last saw him I plan to walk up to the McQueen's front door and find my answers.
I'm not sure if I want to be able to comfort myself with the knowledge that what we once had is over or if I want to see that there is still something there.
I'm not sure if I want to hold him or hurt him, to kiss him or punch him.
But I will be sure. When I see him then I'll be sure of everything. But whatever happens next I know for certain that this time it has to be enough. It has to be enough for both of us.