This sort of emotional breakdown is unlike me and I did my best to hide it and myself from that which was around me. I curled up tightly in the depression and heartbreak and used them as a child would use a blanket to protect him from the monsters in the night. That day I changed, and I am not sure it was wholly for the better. I remember small things from that day- it was windy out and I was wearing a brown dress. My hair was long (I’ve cut it short since then) and it blew around my face as I cried against the concrete wall. My hands shook as they covered my mouth and I heard the laughter of children carry through the town. I think the writer in me cataloged this picture because it was too perfect, like something you’d watch in a sappy love film.
But it wasn’t a film or book, it was my life. Those who know me well know that I am a cynic and that I prepare for everything. I assume most things will not work out and I prepare accordingly, when something does work out I am pleasantly surprised and if it doesn’t I don’t get too heartbroken about it; I just pick up and try something new. Those who know me well know that I am not one to fall in love or become heartbroken. Those who know me well don’t even know this story, though I am sure they have seen some of its symptoms. In that moment of wind, dress, laughter and tears I didn’t know myself, this was a whole new person to me. I wasn’t supposed to fall in love but I most certainly was not supposed to be the one with the broken heart.
Not only did I fall in love but I let my guard down (a huge step for me) and I let someone love me. I let someone hold me while I cried, I let myself get lost in a moment, and I let myself loosen my grip on logic and hold on to the emotional side. This may sound like the ramblings of a South Korean teen drama but for me this was new. I have dated many people before, many good and kind people, but I could never let go and love them like they did me. I have walked away from relationships not feeling anything but relief; I have broken up with people because they were too clingy or nice. Call me an Ice Queen, maybe I was, but for the first time in my life I breathed a little easier with someone holding my hand. I didn’t feel the need to run away or get annoyed when he looked at me a little too long.
(Oh man, maybe I do need to write this down and sell the script.)
I was happy. I think I finally understood what people meant when they said they loved someone. He didn’t complete me by any means, nor did he fill some imaginary hole but he did strengthen that which was weak and build up that which needed help. The cynic had been proven wrong and I was damn happy about that.
Life, fate, gods, the universe, whatever you want to label it isn’t always fair. I think the sooner you realize how little control you have maybe the more you appreciate your life. It wasn’t fair that I was alone crying out to the angry storm, it wasn’t fair that we both love one another so much and yet couldn’t be together, and it surely it wasn’t fair that life had different plans and we both were too cowardly to try and change them.
It wasn’t fair but it happened.
I didn’t eat or sleep for days. My strength and will had been drained, I cried until there was nothing left to cry about and then I cried some more. I didn’t want people to think I was weak so I plastered on happiness and contentment but I was empty.
I have written and re-written this post about 7 times and every time I have to stop, I start crying or find that I cannot breathe. I sit down and stare at my wall and feel the cracks inside of me deepen. I cannot properly express what it feels like to lose someone you love. When I was younger I almost drown in the Pacific Ocean. What I remember about it terrifies me- there was a peace, I could feel the sand, see the water and the sun streaming over me and I knew that I should be scared but I felt peaceful. That peace was fraking terrifying. It wasn’t peace that came with happiness or joy, but one that told you to stop fighting, just close your eyes and let the water toss you around. I still wonder to this day if that is what it feels like when you are dying, does everyone feel that? I felt that the day I lost him to life. I wanted to stop fighting, stop trying and just close my eyes and let the water toss me about.
It’s been months now and I am not completely okay. I feel like I should have learned something special and amazing from all of this, maybe I should have gained some super-power or ability but I didn’t. I stopped writing and doing what I loved, my determination and will zapped dry and I could not move. Realistically I didn’t want to learn anything from this; I just wanted it to be over.
Maybe it is human nature or just me nature but I did learn something, although not amazing or life changing- I am strong. I mean, really, really stinking strong. I can smile now and mean it, I enjoy listening to my sister sing and play her ukulele, I still crush on Wil Wheaton, I argue about comic books , I cried the other day because I was laughing so hard. My eyes sparkle again, not from tears but from inspiration and passion. I picked myself up and crawled until I could walk. One day I will sprint like I used to but for now walking is good enough.
I can’t explain or understand why crap happens, I am only 22 and I will have more problems and heartaches along the way. These sorts of things just happen and I am sorry they do. We, all of us, are stronger than we want to believe. Even though it doesn’t seem like it right now and you don’t want to keep going I know it gets better (and hell, if it doesn’t get better than we will just make it better.) If you have write it all over your body one thousand times until you believe you are strong enough than do it. Go listen to Hoppipolla by Sigur Ros, find a sunny spot by a tree and breathe in the hope. There is joy, beauty and happiness out there through the pain and uncertainty we will find clarity and strength.
That is this cynic’s prayer anyway and I think I will keep praying it until it happens.