I Am Trying To Break Your Heart
We drift in and out, but the marks we leave are as real as the air we breathe.
We drift in and out, but the marks we leave are as real as the air we breathe.
A date a month later turned into two. A night spent together that lasted all weekend. A runaway train of passion and freedom, unbounded by caution or reason or is-this-even-worth-doing. And so when she asked me if I was sure I wanted to do this, I just assumed she meant every word. She asked me, point blank and in the plainest of terms, if I wanted her to break my heart. I said yes.
I don’t know what trying feels like. I don’t know what happiness feels like. I, increasingly, don’t know what sobriety feels like. I don’t know what I feel like. Most people only write about getting sober after they’ve been at it a while, and it’s an inspirational story about self-discipline and perseverance. This is not that.
Things to do. Things to avoid. Things to believe.
Our lives are inherently lonely. But to be born human is to be born with capacity to beat back this loneliness the way light conquers darkness. We love so that we may feel less lonely and more permanent.
You’re not a superhero. Stop setting your expectations that high. Instead, let’s take a deep breath and work on incremental change — which everyone knows is the key to success in everything anyway.
What to chase. What to become. The elements of a life well lived.
The annual exercise in self-reflection.
Stray observations about leveling up — from a guy who really, really needed to level up.
You don’t have to try so hard. Just be enough.