Heartbreak sucks. It hurts so badly and I can’t even express it properly because it’s such a fucking cliche. That feeling of having someone you cherish take your heart and put it through a meat grinder – I mean, it’s safe to say that most people have that experience under their belt.
However universal the experience may be, a broken heart can make you feel so alone.
It’s not hard to see why. You (presumably) gave another person big parts of yourself: told them your dirty secrets, showed them your scars, shared your triumphs. And in the end, that person you trusted ran out on you.
When that happens, I tend to question myself a lot – way too much. I wonder, “Is it because I’m childish, or boring, or clingy? Is it because I have depression and I’m too much to handle?” It sends me into a spiral of dark self-loathing.
When that self-doubt sinks in and threatens to choke me, I try to remember the good things other people love about me.
I think back to when The Best Friend told me about how I affect his life positively, and when Kat reached out to me in her time of need. I chant to myself, “I am a good person,” like a mantra that tries to drown out the very loud voice in my head that screams “I suck and I deserve only suffering”.
This time around, I am completely bewildered, because I am doing everything I could to make our relationship work.
To the best of my knowledge, I am being as understanding as I could possibly be. I am actively trying not to be as demanding or selfish as I was in my previous relationships. So I am totally confused as to why I still got the short end of the stick.
It’s not fair, is it? If you give something, you’re supposed to get something back. And I know love is supposed to be given selflessly, but I can’t make sense of all this right now. In any case, I suppose life isn’t fair and it was naive of me to expect any better. That doesn’t mean I’m not hurting.
But – and this is a big “but” – despite all my hurt, anger, and confusion, I’m still willing to give this thing a chance.
I’m not going to act on impulse and end things just because it’s getting hard. I’m stronger than that, better than that. I’m not going to give up yet on something that matters so much to me. Really, I’m just not ready to throw in the towel, because I still have some fight in me.
A few years ago, I would have been disgusted at how I’m acting now – I’d have probably thought, how can this girl possibly still want to keep going? – but I’ve grown since then. I see the value of meaningful connections more than I ever did. And I’m not about to let pride, of all fucking things, stop me from trying my best.
Lipstick and Knives 