There are times when great romances go wrong. When everything was panning out smoothly, there’s suddenly a wrinkle in the perfectness of the relationship. Slowly, it rips apart, bit by bit, until the whole thing is ruined. Most people don’t like accepting that fact; the fact that the person they thought they would spend the rest of their lives with turned out to be a fake illusion of hope. They tend to avoid it at all costs, ignoring the ache they feel whenever they hear that person’s name.
This is wrong.
Heartbreaks should be embraced wholly. It should be felt, and over-thought and over-analyzed to absorb the hurt of the raw emotion. Think of every painful word of the breakup that fateful July fourth under the fireworks. Or that desolation when you woke up at 3 am and found him gone, not a single sock on the floor. It should be remembered for years on end.
Pain changes people, and sometimes, the change is for the good. They become stronger and braver than they were, having been put to the test. They learn not to trust immediately and do this with reserve. They learn to love the 40-60 way, leaving 40 percent to yourself, so as not to completely lose their grip. They learn that, in love, you must not give your world, but instead just share it, for if we let the person slip, our world slips with them.
We need to feel all of the hurt from that heartbreak. If we didn’t, it wouldn’t matter that our heart was teared up in half, stomped on, ripped, shattered and shat on by that person who we last gave it to, that person who we trusted to care for it, but didn’t. If we didn’t, we would keep loving them with our broken hearts, with all the tiny little pieces.