For four long years, my heart was trapped at home, and nothing could fill the void. Despite my best efforts to make Holland my home, I always felt like something was missing, perpetually isolated and never able to fit in. I threw myself into my studies, but the reality of being in a foreign country without physical affection was taking its toll on me. My high sense of self would never allow me to quit, but after months of struggling, I finally called my parents in defeat. I just couldn't take it anymore.

They begged me to come back home, but I couldn't go back, no matter how much I longed for it. I suffered through two harrowing semesters until my therapist recommended that I visit a place that would make me happy. And so, I found myself at a local farm, where the beautiful flowers reminded me of my room. Flowers were my comfort, and after everything that had happened, I missed them dearly.

The attendants at the farm were kind and understanding, and when one of them offered me a pot of daffodils, I was overwhelmed with emotion. The flowers meant so much to me; they reminded me of Jeremy, the love I had lost. I tried so hard to forget him, but it was futile. Our families were still close, and Rory and Amari were constantly telling me about their lives. It was bittersweet; I was happy to be included, but the glimpses of their happiness together triggered me in the worst ways.

One time, Amari mistakenly sent me a picture of Jeremy, smiling and happy, and I felt bitter. For a moment, I wanted to be selfish. I wanted to be there, enjoying his smile in person, kissing his lips, and telling him how much I loved him. But instead, I was here, and he was there. My last memory of him paled in comparison to the beautiful smile on his face.

As I continued to struggle with my emotions, I turned to stalking his social media, which only worsened my mental health. It seemed like everyone was hiding something from me, and I felt more isolated than ever. My therapist diagnosed me with PTSD, warning me that my emotions could soon consume me if left unchecked. But I was afraid of getting help because I didn't want to let go of the memories I held so dear.

Looking back, I couldn't believe how scared I was to seek help because I wanted to cling to the past. Perhaps we moved too fast, falling in love after only six months. We were young and naive, and my expectations of him were too high. I didn't take his depression seriously, only able to handle his good days but never his bad ones. I thought I could handle dating someone with a mental illness, that as long as I gave him love and support, he would be fine. But that wasn't the case, and when I finally looked at the situation with a clear view, I realized we should have waited. As much as we would have liked to say we were capable of working it out, we weren't. The relationship was immature, and if I hadn't fallen for him, we might have still been friends today.

But the past is the past, and now it was time for me to heal. The daffodils reminded me of hope, of the beauty that could come after the darkness. I thanked the attendant and went on my way, with my head held high. I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I was ready to face my demons and take back control of my life.