Everyone keeps telling me to just remember the good times with him, that it'll be better if I just remember the good times.

So I try.

They make me laugh, but they hurt so much. for every happy moment that runs through my mind, I feel like my heart gets torn a bit more.

I loved him, I love him. So much, and it hurts so much.

He was goofy, and funny, and cynical.

He loved to complain about things, like pop music. He felt like he belonged in the 90s because of how great he thought the music was.

He used to wear these old, battered army boots that were falling apart.

I used to find chunks of the sole on the floor, because they were so old and falling apart. But he refused to throw them away.

I hated those boots so much, they were the worst, but he loved them because he'd had them so long. I did everything I could to get him to throw them away, but he never did.

Halloween was his favorite holiday, but it was also the hardest time of year for him because it was the time of year he lost his mother.

He was a big dork, and loved video games. We would spend endless hours playing games, he loved and hated his PC, but he was so excited when he first got it because it it lit up, and was see-through.

I know it's wrong, but I get really angry when certain people act like they know him better then I do.

They may know certain bits of his past better than me, but I knew him day to day as a person, and I knew his soul.

They keep saying that they knew him well, but they didn't. 

His favorite band was Nirvana, his favorite song was Polly.

At first he used to have two sugars in his tea, but then upped it to three.

He never tied his shoelaces properly, he would just tie a knot in each one and tuck them in.

He loved trifle and could eat a four person serving in one sitting.

He always got annoyed when people pointed out how bright ginger his hair was, and acted like he didn't like it. But he loved his ginger hair.

He was so stubborn, and if we were discussing something and he felt like someone else's point was stronger, he would just stick his tongue out at you and laugh.

He was so caring and loving.

He was scared of people, but went out to places with me because he wanted to get through it.

He liked wearing my beanie all the time because he liked the way it made his hair curl at the ends.

No matter how hot it is he would always put on thick black jeans, a t-shirt, a shirt, and his boots on.

He was scared of himself, and of hurting people.

Jack Daniels Honey, and Moonshine were his favorite drinks.

Woods rum was his favorite shot, he always got other people to try it with him. He liked it because it tasted horrible and was strong. He thought it was funny.

He had a really dark sense of humour.

He always lectured me about the oppression of the Welsh due to the English as though I didn't understand oppression. (I'm Jamaican Indian)

He always spoke about how we need to protect our veterans.

He smoked cigarettes with roaches instead of filters.

He loved his sister so much.

He loved his cat.

He considered his best friend as his brother.

He used to try and wind people up, such as telling my friend that he preferred DC to Marvel, knowing that it would annoy her. (He preferred Marvel as well.)

He had very high respect for the military and wanted to join - his mental health made that difficult for him though.

He was really creative, and liked making videos, but he was too  anxious to go to college.

He really wanted to learn how to ride a motorbike, and loved his leathers, and patches.

He saw his interest in motorbikes as the connection between him and his Dad, he was always trying to find a way to connect with him, but found it difficult.

He was scared of the world, but didn't let anyone but me see it.

He was very socially anxious, but didn't realise that he was actually pretty good at making friends.

He was worried that I would make him choose between me and his friends, and was really happy when I encouraged him to go and see them more, or invite them over.

He was bored with life, but didn't know what to do to make it less boring.

He felt that the discipline of the army would really help his life.

When he first said that he loved me, he was really scared, and when I asked, "You love me?" He got really shy, and said, "I think very highly of you." And then 10 minutes later said, "I do really love you, so yeah, that's a thing."

I told him I loved him to, and we both laughed at how awkwardly we had done it.

He was really close with my younger cousin, they got on really well, and felt tlike they could talk to each other about a lot of things.

He used to give me a look when I was being an idiot, put his hand on my face, pull me close and say, "You're an idiot, but I love you."

We were trying to make plans for our third year together, we were going to go on a camping trip.

He said that he wanted to move with me to another city when I finished university.

He told me that he would never stop loving me. That he would love me forever.

We were messaging each other a few hours before he killed himself.

He told me that he loved me.

I wish I could have said it in person:

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

I will always love you.

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