Never Quite the Same

While reading my older entries (for ideas, mainly). It came to my attention that I've made many spelling errors and typographical errors and, perhaps more importantly, that I've never actually written about heartbreak. I might have hinted at it or mentioned it in some very vague way but I've never actually sat down and collected enough thoughts about it to form a substantial post. This is probably because I'm not comfortable with writing about it, which I'll try to explain in the following paragraph.

Heartbreak isn't really something one can write about without baring a portion of themselves. Nor is it something one can write about without sounding selfish, to some degree, because you would take the path that applies most to you. It's different for everyone (which can be said of most, if not all, things). This uniqueness prevents a solid, all-encompassing definition from existing and therefore from applying to everyone correctly. There's really no "one size fits all" explanation for something as profound as heartbreak. It isn't something one can easily write about either because it really doesn't need an explanation as it is something that everyone has already experienced at some point or another, or at the very least can extrapolate based on the word alone. What more can actually be said about it? It's a very painful experience and it plants the seeds for growth.

So, with a sense of hesitation overwhelmed by a desire to write... it's time to generalize while trying not to sound like a complete ass.

Heartbreak. Vile. Crushing. Agonizing. Defeat. These are some of the many words used to describe that experience that everyone will go through at some point. Like love, there are different types of it. The most common (or the one written about the most) relates to relationship (in which two people exclusively associate with each other emotionally and sexually) and, of course that pesky notion of romance. Or more easily written: romantic relationships.

Heartbreak comes forth in many stages that range in magnitude but perhaps the most painful (or again: the one that has been written about the most) comes when a relationship ends. With this particular brand of heartbreak, one should think of the concept of an earthquake. It often takes you by surprise and what seems to go on for a while doesn't actually last very long though it can be quite destructive and there really isn't much you can do other than endure and pick up the pieces and move on. Of course, what that should probably really mean is that the relationship ending is the earthquake and the pain that follows (often attributed as heartbreak) is the aftershock and the picking up of broken and disheveled pieces of the whatever you want to call it.

Do I actually know what the hell I'm talking about? Yes but like I said before, it's a tricky subject to write about because you have to be careful to not sound biased or too personal. After all, I'm trying to sound as neutral and blank as possible without being too much of a generalizing, condescending ass. But it obviously isn't working because I'm talking in circles and had to write and explanation, and admit that I can't actually write.

There is one truth in all this though: things are never quite the same after it.

That level of devotion that once bound you both began to peter out. Despite your best efforts, there was really nothing to be done to save anything. And that's where the real tragedy lies: the inability to do anything about a sinking ship. Other than let the cold waters engulf you slowly as the bright blue sky of yesterday becomes blurred and distorted by the cold waters of misery and loneliness. And you sink further and further, that blue sky become darker and darker and distant.

But you get sick of that feeling of death where you feel your whole world is actually shit and that there's nothing to be done other than sink and feel worthless. Then it clicks: this sucks, and you become tired of having your self get dragged down and filled with misery, so you straighten yourself up and begin the difficult swim back to the surface. Back to the blue skies. With each stroke, you feel some sort of pain and a feeling of wanting to give up and just sink down and wallow in misery. But you keep going because this shit sucks. Finally, your head reaches the surface and breathes in for the first time in what seems to be an eternity and you marvel at that blue sky. Always been there but different somehow. The clouds of yesteryear don't seem to be there, or there seem to be different clouds. Perhaps not the gray ones that haunted you but big white and fluffy, made brighter by a beaming sun. Hope? And as you marvel at the sky, you keep trying to stay afloat.

Perhaps not an earthquake.