Heartbreak always feels like collateral damage. I’ve suffered from that little pang in my chest a multitude of times, whether it's from experiencing the security of a long-term partnership coming to an end, or a blossoming relationship suddenly falling apart. It accompanies you when you find
out you were cheated on, or when you start sensing that someone you deeply care
for is losing interest. That’s the dangerous part about heartbreak, it can
hurt so fiercely and intensely, regardless of the situation that catalysed it. It’s painful if you lose a long-term partner,
and it can feel just as unbearably sad if you have to let go of someone you met two
months ago. In most cases, the tears still rush down your face as heavily, the embarrassment
of telling your friends and family it equally as hard and the aching of losing something
you had grown accustomed to completely encapsulates you. Love and time do not
always make perfect sense together, the heartbreak you go through from losing love doesn’t go
away just because it was short lived.
I write about romantic love a lot, usually from an outside
perspective. I am an observer of love, rarely ever involved with it. I’m the
person who gets excited at seeing people I barely know get into loving relationships. There I am, rooting for partnerships and happiness, letting the joy of
witnessing love light up my day. I have acknowledged, plenty of times, the all-encompassing love you
can gain from friendships and family, but there is definitely something to be
said about the indescribable and unique ecstasy that romantic love can provide. I remain fascinated by it, whether that’s seeing two people cuddling up in a university bedroom, under
some messily hung up fairy lights talking about everything and anything, to
married couples marching through a supermarket like a dynamic duo, with a
routine so that has become second-nature to them; the type of love that it
seems as if it were a dance, like people are moving in and out of sequences that
they know and cherish. I’ve experienced a lot of different loves in my life, but
rarely the romantic kind. I have had tastes of it, breathed it in briefly.
Though, here I am, waiting for my time to come where I can fully let my guard
down and experience what it means to be completely adored in a way that is
fearless and without insecurity. I'm not looking for a type of love that you read about in classic romantic fiction, I just want someone to talk about rubbish
films with, to roll around laughing about jokes that only we understand and to hold the hand of someone who I can trust.
But this isn’t about love, this is about heartbreak. This
is about what to do when you’re scrolling through sad Spotify playlists in the
evening so you can find songs to cathartically cry to, or for when you walk to
the shop in tears so you can buy yourself three packets of biscuits. We do weird
stuff when we’ve had our hope shattered. Unfortunately, I don’t have a cure. I’d
do anything to have a magic potion tucked up in my drawers that could soothe any
broken heart, I’d sprinkle it on all the crying friends I’ve had to squeeze
through heartbreak, and keep little droplets for myself for when the inevitable
happens.
What I will say, is that whenever you get your heart broken,
it feels like you will never love again. It seems as though you will never have
inside jokes that are just as good, or that another person will never make you
smile in the same way. You convince yourself that you will never fully
appreciate the specific features of someone’s face as lovingly ever again, or
image yourself answering the door so excitedly to another person. Everyone else
seems cold, void of personality and warmth in comparison. But, this is just temporary. It’s cliché to say, but there is
some comfort in knowing that heartbreak is just as fleeting as love can be. In
a few months, all the heartbreak will eventually blur together. It will all be
a part of the same feeling, a concoction of events that gave you that pang in
your chest.
When I was crying to a close friend recently, she gave me some of the most reassuring advice I’ve heard in a while. She said, “You
will get through it, because you always do... until one day when you won’t have
to anymore. I admire how you get back up
every time. I always remind myself that going through it all again is worth it
because of the little glimpses of happiness.” Certainly, there’s a lot to be said about the strength we have, how heartbreak
forces the toughest versions of ourselves to take centre-stage. The next time
you feel shattered and exhausted, remember all the other times in your life
where you’ve had to build everything back up again. It hurts and it’s sad, of
course. Equally, it’s bearable, it’s passing and most importantly, you will manage
this pain beautifully.
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