About The Man Who Taught Me What Heartbreak Really Is

Artwork by Alana Dee Haynes

Artwork by Alana Dee Haynes

What is heartbreak? I have never actually been able to comprehend how one person could shatter the world of another. After all, happiness should come from within us and should not be placed in the hands of anyone else. Well, I used to think this – until he came along.

Now I sit alone, staring out of a window into a world of nothingness with a heart so crumbled that I think I’ve finally learnt what this affliction really is.

Our story was not a cliché; it was raw. They say that teenage love is not meant to last, but I really believed our short-lived love affair would survive. Nevertheless, that summer did feel like forever.

We spent every waking moment side-by-side, staring into each other’s eyes. His were the color of the ocean and his laugh reminded me of innocence. He was beautiful, and so was his soul. I thought I had finally found out what it meant to be connected.

Dear god – did he fascinate me. We felt the same about the universe, about religion, and about music. His voice became the only melody I longed to hear.

We met because I was attracted to his voice, actually, at some stupid party surrounded by alcohol and deafening music. Intoxication got the better of my confidence, and a week later we were on our first of many dates.

We spent endless nights dancing until the sun rose. Nights filled with passion, nicotine, and burning vodka. He made me feel alive, which I know partly because of how lifeless my soul now feels.
I guess he did not mean to make me feel this way, but I think he did. After all our memories, he just walked away.

I still have sand in my sweaters from most of those nights. We were young and careless, with little money but a lot of love. That summer was spent in a rented apartment on the beach of a different city, with those I considered my favorite souls.

He smoked as much as I breathed, and I guess that’s where we went wrong. His love for me, if there ever was any, was overpowered by the bottle and last promised cigarette.

But, the day he left me, alcohol was not running through his veins. Yet his eyes were empty, just as my world now is. Our love might have been unrequited, or perhaps it never was love.

Infatuation, maybe, or a meaningless joke. Either way, I now know what heartbreak is. So I’ll continue to light every unforgiving cigarette between my lips, blackening my lungs to match his heart.

After, maybe, just maybe, my broken pieces will start to mend, and I’ll be whole again.

Anonymously submitted to ArtParasites