I would like to take a moment to apologize for my previous post. I have always had trouble remembering that I am not as good a writer as I might think. And no this is not me bashing on myself in hopes you might praise me. I have never been one to waste good bait fishing for compliments. Now that that’s settled, let us move on.
The Universe never told me I was going to end up with a broken heart at nineteen. And trust me, if it had I probably would have laughed in its face and asked for something a little more cliche. Because let’s be honest, teenage girls everywhere have cried after finding out that this thing we call “love” just isn’t in the cards for us. Reader, I hope you haven’t already given up on this post because I promise it’ll get better. This isn’t going to be one of those “letters to a younger me” where I give myself useless advice hoping somebody somewhere will read it at fifteen and avoid making my mistakes. This is instead a (hopefully) refreshing take on the same circumstance every individual will eventually find themselves in.
You cannot avoid getting your heart broken. Even if you keep everyone at a safe distance and never give anyone full control over your emotions, you will still experience Heartbreak. I know this because Heartbreak comes in a variety of costumes. For Heartbreak, everyday is Halloween.
Heartbreak comes in any shape and form. For me it dressed up as the ocean, coming in two waves. The water that made up this ocean was warm and gradual. It came over me after a long freshman year of college. The initial wave was a blow from someone I once considered my best friend. It wasn’t until recently though that I realized there had been a second wave to hit me. This second dose of Heartbreak was created from the first. It was only able to take shape and knock me on my ass because I had refused to spit out the water from the first wave. As it turns out, I was responsible for this second swell. I had broken my heart this time.
I was so caught up in the undertow of our friendship that I let it pull me under and almost drown out what was left of my self worth. Now I’m not saying that I felt like a piece of wet cardboard but if I was just floating under the surface of reality it was because my limbs had turned to soggy paper-mesh and refused to pull my head, and what was left of my heart, up for air.
What I’m trying to say with all of that metaphorical bullshit up there is that I was my own worst enemy. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t in denial for a long time about truly getting over what had initially laid me so low. It was my inability to get up after that first wave that resulted in me being drug out to sea. You have to let go of everything, especially the hate you feel for him, or it’ll anchor you in the same ugly ocean that’ll continue to pull you under.
Because that’s what Heartbreak was for me; me making someone else’s job easier. There are hundreds of people out there looking to tear you down, don’t let the one doing the most damage be you.