Thursday, April 8, 2010

The saddest part of a broken heart, isn't the ending so much as the start.

I started off writing a blog post about a break up. I guess the once semi-constant thing in my life has been writing and the ability to express myself and what I was going through. While I’ve currently moved from fiction to literally my boring every day life I always felt it a great outlet for my rather clutter brain.

I’m the type of person who over thinks just about everything. I try to plan things. I worry. I fret. I analyze and then hyper analyze. I jump to conclusions. I lose myself in my thoughts. Being able to write out my emotions, my feelings... it distances me from them. It lets me organize. Often my writing starts off with one thing and ends on a completely different mark.

Which I guess is how I started re-writing this post about my break up.

Actually this is probably the third draft about break ups.

And it’s still no where what I wanted this post to be.

I had started with an attempt to discuss ways of dealing with break ups. You know the standards: ice cream, bitching it out, changing something drastically, one night stands. It didn’t get very far before I scrapped the idea and left it sitting elsewhere.

The second time had slightly more success, also discussing on ways to deal with a break up. I even threw in a lovely background on the origin of soul mates and the idea of searching for your other half. Don't say you never learned anything from here. Yes, all two people who read this.

But really? That’s all bullshit.

The only truth about break ups is that they suck.

Sure, you may be happy it’s over. There might be great relief. I’ve gone through that. The thought and feeling of freedom. That this pain in your chest has finally dissolved. That there’s no one to answer to. You can do whatever the hell it is you want: fuck, kiss, dye your hair blonde, get fake nails, smoke, hang out with that one friend, go out, dress in that shirt he hates. No one can tell you differently.

I’ve stuck through relationships to bitter ends, chased them into the arms of other people. I’ve dealt with a full range of emotions that come from the grief and to be quite honest the bit of madness that happens when it fizzles out.

However, this break up wasn’t that. I won’t get into gory details. That’s between me and him. But to say it was a relief is a lie. It hurts. It hurts every damn day. There’s distractions of course. Burying myself in a new life, new friends, work, projects (hey, look. A blog!). Doesn’t mean I let myself forget. Let things slip out.

It doesn’t mean there still isn’t tears. They tend to sneak up on me. I can put on a show for other people. However, that doesn’t always seem to be the case when you’re by yourself. It’s always the most random things as well. A smell, an inside joke that no one else would get, a song on the radio. Sure, they’ve slowed but it doesn’t mean they’ve disappeared. There are certain things I’m sure that I’ll never see and not think of him. (Franklin.)

But the main thing is the loneliness. Plato, I believe, came up with the idea of soul mates from the idea that humans were first born with four arms, four legs, one head and two faces. (Hey, look. It’s that origin story again. Damn right it is.) Zeus, apparently being a bit of an ass, was afraid of the power of these people and so he split them in two (like I said, ass) and doomed them to forever walk the planet trying to find their other half.

A terribly romantic ideal. However, when working through a break up it just makes the idea of starting over to be that much more of a struggle, an almost impossible feat.

I’m seriously suppose to find my other half? Have they been in the dating market lately? I’d hate to think there were more of these people out there.

Now, while I’m not one to disagree with historians and the like, cause come on? Like some random emo 22 year old is going to be able to outthink PhDs, it does have to make you wonder. Was Plato talking about soul mates or the ideas behind break ups?

Cause if there’s one thing to take out of that story---because honestly? While the idea is romantic, I think I’m too much of a cynic for the grown up version of fairy tales aka soul mates, it sounds like he has the right idea about how it feels like when you’re torn apart.

Okay, I’m being melodramatic. But for me at least, I can relate to the feeling that a piece--a giant piece of you is missing. It’s terribly romantic and the search would surely be a worthy cause. And at the same time, it sounds like such a Searching the earth for that one person who would complete you? Yeah, that doesn’t seem impossible or anything.

So how do you deal with being alone without being lonely?

If you figure it out, get in touch.

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