Laying it out on the table in front of me, I take another swig of my beer and inhale a deep breath. After six years it still hurts like hell. It’s like a knife to my heart, a dagger to my soul. The wind gets knocked from my lungs and the walls close in around me. It’s the same thing every time, and every time I tell myself that it will be different; that I can get through it without the pain. Whoever said ‘time heals all wounds’ is a damn liar. It doesn’t.