Heartbreak is a pain universally acknowledged. When going through heartbreak, this fact brings no solace whatsoever. In that moment when your permeable peachy heart gets squashed like a kiwi, a pain tiptoes over your body like dew tickles over a leaf. All the world seems to stop and sit still on its spin and the colour drains from everything, like sand from an egg-timer. Egg-timers, like most things, are now of course superfluous because time itself is meaningless. Without love time is only sad memories of morning moments in bed and kisses. All time from this moment forward, will be nothing but counted seconds and minutes and hours and days and weeks and months, from this moment, when the world sat still on its spin.
And then the tears, fat, hot, salty tears, hundreds of them, thousands of them, big salty puddles of oceanic tears for hours and hours and days and days. You can't move. Breathing makes you cry.
You don't want to go outside, because couples are everywhere out there, swanning around rubbing their love in your face. You want to run them all over with a sit on lawnmower.
When you eventually manage to scrape yourself from your tear-filled mattress and attempt life, you see their name in the letters of all other words, on the tube, on the bus, even in the bath where there are no words, you see their name. And everything reminds you of them, brushing your teeth; they used to brush their teeth, walking; they used to walk, breathing; they used to breathe. And you hate them, god how you hate them, you find yourself writing "DIE" on everything and wishing that they would go bald.
And you'll be drinking a lot, you'll basically be two glasses away from actually turning into a bottle of Merlot. Merlot helps. Merlot is your friend. Merlot is your new girlfriend. Merlot would NEVER hurt you like she did.
Most things in life at this time are treacherous, but none more so than your ipod, it is a treacherous war zone. You never realised before but every song ever written is about love, and you HATE love, love is the enemy. Shuffling is like russian roulette, Sinead O' Connor's 'Nothing Compares To You' will come up, as will Celine Dion's 'All By Myself' and then to top it all off, 'your song' will almost definitely come up, the first note of which entering your ear will send you into an uncontrollable outburst of those hot, salty, tears. So you'll make a playlist which will almost definitely include Kelis's 'Caught Out There' and The J.Geils Band's 'Love Stinks' and you'll listen to a hell of a lot of Cher.
You'll swear that you'll never fall in love again, and you'll silently resign yourself to the fact that you're going to die alone and get eaten by your cats. Joni Mitchell said that all romantics meet the same fate one day, cynical and drunk and boring someone in some dark cafe. She's right. You are now a romantic atheist.
You'll wish for a wooden heart like a carousel horse, in fact you'll wish you were a carousel horse, or any inanimate object unable to feel any emotion. You'll wish you were a shoe. A shoe could never feel pain like you're feeling right now.
You'll want to call them, you probably will when you're drunk, you'll delete their number to be safe, but you know it off by heart, and it's just as hard to erase from your memory as they are. You have gone insane.
Facebook is another treacherous war zone and should be avoided at all costs for at least two weeks, because they are ALL over Facebook getting on with their life, they are all over your wall and your inbox and your pictures and you can't 'de-friend' them because you'll look immature. But you'd love nothing more than to 'de-friend' them, 'de-friending' them isn't a patch on what you'd actually like to do to them. You hope they get alopecia.
You'll find yourself drunk and crying at bus stops bending the ear off a stranger, telling them how you give her everything and she crushed you like a mouse. You'll find yourself crying a lot, in fact you'll find yourself crying everywhere, even in Tesco, because when you're heartbroken, choices are hard, you'll cry because you can't decide whether to buy a banana or an apple, neither of which you want, because you don't have any appetite, she took that along with everything else. But, hey, at least your ass is getting smaller, (every cloud).
And then, a month will have passed, (you will of course know the exact second that a month passes) and things are feeling less painful. You no longer have to make yourself breathe in and out. The sky is a little bluer, the world is a little less drab. Thoughts of her are fewer and less destroying.
You have now entered 'the worst is over' stage. You will never again feel the pain that you have felt in the last month. Some days you even smile. When you think of them you don't want to a) die b) cry c) punch their face. You're not angry, you're not sad, you're not really anything anymore. You also have your iPod back, and you can shuffle like it's 1999, you can even handle Sinead O' Connor.
Soon you will meet as other people do, you'll work no magic for her, nor her for you. And you will be free. You will have made it through one of the most painful of all pains known to humanity, and you'll be stronger, wiser and thinner.
Until then, remember; if you're going through hell, keep going.
No comments:
Post a Comment