When you love, you get hurt. Odds are against your Happily Ever After involving the first person who wins your heart. Although they will absolutely make your life, eventually, they will break it. You give a piece of yourself to that other person, and when they go they take it with them leaving you incomplete. This isn’t pessimism, just reality. Love is the ultimate drug, the one with the most euphoric high but also the most devastating withdrawals. We will all experience this, though knowing the people around you have previously walked in your shoes provides little comfort. Your insides simply hurt.
When you hurt, you hate. You hate yourself. You hate the other person. You hate love itself. You hate how the strong, independent adult you are fell trap to another person manipulating your happiness. You resolve to become a wall. An unbreakable fortress of brick and mortar fit to withstand any torrent of emotion, from the outside or within. Once you embodied the entire spectrum of happiness, but now hate is the sensation you most identify with.
When you hate, you try to forget. Try being the opportune word. You block them from your Facebook feed. You stop scrolling through your camera roll. Songs, movies, restaurants, adventures, hobbies — everything that was once yours and theirs to share you expunge from mind and memory. Love is built out of experiencing life with another being, but now you must paint that vibrant tableau white. You must try to forget, because to continue to remember is to dwell in the past.
When you try to forget, you start missing. The hard part is behind you. You’ve sewn up that seam; the once festering wound is now a weathered scar. You’ve readjusted to life on your terms and it takes effort now to conjure back feeling that used to torment your soul. You see a couple holding hands and you miss having your fingers entwined with the extremities of another who understands you. You miss having a number to text, a shoulder to lean on, an ass to grab. You miss the feeling of letting someone special share your life.
And when you start missing, you’ll eventually fall in love again. After all, love is a cycle.