I Can Honestly Say That I Want Heartbreak


I spend a lot of time thinking. A lot like any other person, I suppose, I wonder about love, the meaning of life, my future, and if my hair could grow just a little bit faster. Last night, I was texting my friend, just like the rest of the world does when bored late at night, and we were talking about my latest news: wanting to catch up with an ex who I wasn’t sure wanted to see me.

I was watching a movie, Incredibly Loud and Extremely Close, and specifically learned that sometimes you cannot make sense of something. You may want to, but you cannot.

You cannot make sense of death, heartbreak, grief, love.

I said that, a lot less poetically, and she said she thought that was best.

I responded by saying that the word best is often the same as the word necessity. With all of my being, I wanted to keep thinking and try to figure out a person who I once loved, but I actually cannot.

Letting it go and not letting it consume you is typically under that category of being “best” that people try to kindly, but strictly tell you.

“I think that would be best,” they say. But, what they do not say is that “I think that would be best or else you may lose your entire brain and soul. If you keep thinking about this, a paradox of not knowing, it could leave you worse than heartbroken: heart wondering.”

To be heartbroken is relatively finite.

You want to neatly rip your heart out of your body, but you know you won’t. You keep utmost hope for what could be, while knowing the utmost tragedy that could also be, all the while pretending to your friends that you don’t really care.

But you care. We all care.

It is not a lack of caring that causes us to choose what is “best” and let go, but rather it is necessity that makes us do all the cliches of letting something fly far, far away.

I never like doing that—letting go of a person when I wish I could keep them alive and well and thriving in my memory and in my dreams. But, it is really a sort of kidnapping. It’s taking someone that doesn’t want to be taken. And, just as much as it has to do with the other person, it has to do even more with you. It kidnaps your own life.

So, if I could pick at the end of the day, I would want someone to give me heartbreak. To give me finiteness.

To give a kidnap-free world, where each person’s brain and heart is their own, and no one else’s.