Love is a funny thing. Especially falling in love.

People have this concept of love all twisted around, mixing it with infatuation and even obsession. Love is just a safe word that covers things for them. Hell, we even use the word love to justify decisions that we otherwise wouldn’t have made.

It’s powerful. It has the potential to make lives better, showing them the true awesomeness that is the other person who they’ve fallen in love with. But it also has great destructive power. If anyone reading this has had their heart broken, then they know exactly what I’m talking about.

Heartbreaks happen daily, all around the world. If they made a sound, the skies would be filled with a constant wail of despair. It’s a lot of pain to endure, perhaps the most painful of experiences that you can have happen.

Personally, I’ve had my heart broken. I know what I’m talking about. It sucked. It was awful. I hated every minute of it.  For the entire duration it felt like I was sick and would never get better. I wished for so many things and received so little. It made me exhausted both physically and emotionally.

Regardless of that fact, I’ve also been on the other end of the spectrum. Now this isn’t me being cocky or conceited because the words were spoken directly to my face. She said I had broken her heart. I didn’t expect that to hurt, not really. Afterall she was the one who was supposed to be hurting if her heart was broken, not me right?

Well, I guess I was wrong there. Another mistake in my life.

I was at home that night, trying to fall asleep, thinking about what had happened and wondering what she was thinking right now. Was she thinking of me, just as I had done when I had my own heart broken? Or was she stronger than me? Did she get over the heartbreak quicker?

If you want the short story, she did get over it pretty quick. I know she would too. She was strong and I had a feeling that she wouldn’t let something like that keep her down for long. Boy did I wish I had her fortitude. What took her a few days, took me a few months.

So how do you fix a broken heart? That’s what I’ve tried to figure out. And believe me when I tell you I’ve gone down several dozen wrong paths in attempts to get there.

If I’m telling you the truth, I still don’t know. I don’t even know if you can. It’s like trust, once its broken its broken and can never be put back together again the same way.

I remember the feelings I had when I was trying to put my own heart back together, all on my own, far from my family and away from anyone who seemed to care. I was newly single, living away from home and my best friend in the entire world had just moved away. I’d never felt more alone before in my entire life.

I was driving home one night from her place after I came by with a final apology and a final plea to make things work. It had failed and as I drove, I honestly wondered what would happen if I veered off the road. What would happen if I stepped on the gas and drove straight towards that lamppost?

Luckily, those questions remained unanswered.

I started to look back on the last two years of my life that she had consumed.

I wish I had never met her in the first place. I wished we had never crossed paths and that I didn’t have to see her face every day. I desperately wanted to rid myself of the urge to impress, satisfy, care for or need her. But again, it’s easier said than done.

I wanted to stop crying as I fell asleep each night, thinking of her.

I didn’t want to think about her each time I saw something she liked, or someone who looked like her.

This isn’t so much a testament as it is a call-out. They have no right to belittle you and make you feel like nothing. When it was at it’s worst, all I wanted to do was run and cry and scream and beat my fists endlessly against a wall asking why? Why? Why? Why?

I always wondered if she was happy watching me suffer that way? Did it justify her actions for ripping my heart out, to see me like that? Afterall, the worst feeling in the world is when someone you want doesn’t want you back. The ultimate rejection. Pure, one hundred percent denial.

Sure it sucks. Of course, it sucks. Life’s pretty shit at times. But it’s not the end.

When she left me, I cried. I cried endlessly because she was the one person in the world that I truly trusted and felt I had a connection with. I honestly thought that she would be the girl I married, if we had made it through school. Clearly, she didn’t have the same idea. And still I cried when she said it wasn’t going to happen again, or that maybe when we were older in a few years.

What do I look like to you? An inanimate object that you can put on a shelf and wait around until YOU get bored of your life and decide to pick up? Good joke. That gave me a good laugh. Seeing what she left me for was an even better joke.

Like I said, it’s not the end. It was the beginning of something new.

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