Get your first breakup at 17. Threaten her you’ll kill yourself, then wish you could slap yourself so hard you’ll undo it. Of course it won’t work. It never does.
Have your second heartache at 21, believing she was the one. Take a whole year to teach your mind not to think about her on a daily basis. Keep running away. Avoid those places and memories ’til you’re both broke and broken. Reach rock-bottom. Then grow up.
And fall again – not the same puppy love feels during your teens. Feel amazing that you’re finally with someone who fills the gaps whenever your inner demons poked holes around. And just when you realize you’re with the right person, she ends it. By all means, be furious. Wallow in disappointment. Look at the mirror and feel sorry for the person in front of you. Drown in self-pity.
But at 25, when you’re struggling to keep 3 jobs, you’re so busy you don’t have time to hurt. When you do, though, you couldn’t feel any hate or regret. It’s like you forgot how to be heartbroken. Feel relieved that you’re mature enough to easily accept that some things are just not meant to be. Grab a beer, fall asleep, get over it. Always look forward to a new day. Life goes on, they always say, so shall you.
But then you see her for the last time. She picks you up, you look at each other. She smiles, and goddamnit you wish you could throw your arms around her and stay that way. How have you been, she asks.
You remember how you were so excited to come home. You remember the planned weekend getaways. The lunch breaks spent driving around. The random road trips away from the city that feels so small. You recall how you used to wake up earlier than usual when you went on dates. You always got her missed episodes of all her favorite shows. Satisfied all her irrational cravings. Exchanged silly videos online. Come to think of it, you set your status invisible to everyone but her. She has a special ringtone so you know you have to answer your phone right away. All these places you’re thinking of taking her to… she’s never going to visit you anymore. She isn’t coming back. She’ll go on with her life, probably meet somebody new, and treat you like a stranger again. Let that sink in for a moment. Now try to say all of the above out loud while holding your breath, because that’s how hard it is to keep those tears from falling.
Well damn, you just lost it. Do we not get stronger with age? Do we only get more and more preoccupied when we get older? Maybe we never really learn how to deal with heartaches, we just learn how to avoid them. How do grown-ups even move on?
Go home. Go back to reality. Every day is a new day. Grab a beer, fall asleep, get over it. Accept that some things are meant to fall apart. Forget that you’re heartbroken. You have 3 jobs for goodness’ sake, you shouldn’t have time to hurt.
And for crying out loud, stop saying, “Siri, call my girlfriend.”