I don't like saying that I'm still in love with him. Because I'm not. But the pain of the lies and times we shared is definitely still there.
Let me put it in a way (I hope) you will understand:
It's like a blister. I get them on my feet all the time (just a small part of the glamorous life of a dancer). When I get these blisters, I tape them, put bandaids on them, pour alcohol on them. I do everything I can in my power to make them heal up faster and be less painful. As time goes by and my procedures to speed up the healing process almost come to a stop, those blisters have pretty much healed up. They grow new skin over it, and all that's left is a scar.
One time, I got these really bad blisters. They bled through my tights and into my toe pads. It was so painful, but now matter how much pain I was in, I had to keep going through rehearsals and shows with a big smile on my face. I had to hide all that pain behind a smile and convince myself that I'll be okay.
And sometimes, when I thought everything was okay, it wasn't. When I danced on those blisters, the skin would rip and my toes would be left bleeding again. The open sores with the small puddle of blood staring right back at me. The raw skin just begging to be healed. But all it can do for a while is sit there and stare right back at you as you wince at the pain of the skin being ripped off again.
I had created this new layer of my heart ready for something new. But it was nothing but one big ugly scar. To have that skin just rip off like a blister, was just as painful. And as I winced at the pain and my little heart strings twitched, all I had to do was smile. It's the hardest thing I'm going to have to do for the next forever.