No two loves are alike, as the saying goes. The same thing can be said about heartbreaks. No two heartbreaks are alike. But you can always tell when you’ve had the worst, when you’re broken beyond repair—or so you thought.
There are heartbreaks that make you better, make you grow, make you wiser. In time, they will. But there are also those that just break you. You will know that kind of heartbreak, when you can’t cry the minute it happened. You’re just plain shocked. No, he can’t do this, you tell yourself. You try and convince yourself that this is all a nightmare, the worst of its kind. Tomorrow everything’s fine, untouched, the way things between the two of you are supposed to be. You shake the thought of you being left behind off your mind. This can’t be happening.
A few days later, it’ll sink in. It just will because he stops responding to your messages. The calls will never come. He won’t ask if you’re okay, because he knows you should be. He left you on your own broken devices, trusting you to climb out of the dark hole yourself. The way he decided to. But what good does his trust in you and your strength do? You know you won’t be okay. No, not after this kind of crash.
There are those heartbreaks where you can say, “No, I know I’ll fall for someone again” or “No, I’ll be able to love again.” And there are heartbreaks where there’s nothing left to say. There’s just you. Broken. Messed. Devastated. You’ll cry because of the loss. You’ll cry because it’s over. But mostly, because you don’t know what to do after. A distraction won’t even suffice, no matter how welcome it is. You’re just too caught up in the words he left you with. “I’m sorry. It will never work out between us,” he said. It will never work out, as if he trusted that whatever emotions and feelings you have for each other have the ability to move on their own and bring you the “ending” you both have wished and hoped for. He could’ve said, I refuse to work it out between us because using “it” involves the two of you. And you know you’re willing to go to hell and back to make things work. He could’ve chosen better words, ones that are more honest.
Although honest or not, you know it won’t matter anymore. It won’t count because you’re already broken, and you don’t know when the scars and wounds will heal. If they’ll ever heal. Damn this heart. If only it weren’t too fragile or too trusting, you wouldn’t have been caught up in this messy web in the first place. If only you haven’t allowed him to set camp in your life. If only you haven’t gotten used to the sound of his laughter or the way he curls on bed and rests his head on your lap. If only you haven’t allowed him to get in, maybe you won’t crash and break whatever hope you have left for yourself. If only. All you can blame now is yourself. Because when all has been said and done, the worst crash is yours to figure out, to get out of. The choice is yours to make whether it’s going to break you or build you. And don’t we all hope it was very easy to always choose the latter?
Photo: The Weinstein Company