When I was a senior in high school, I got my heart broken. In the midst of all of these coming-of-age milestones, I was able to experience one of the most pivotal turning points of life. In between my prom, my graduation and my eighteenth birthday, you could find me shedding tears in my bathroom mirror and listening to Olivia Rodrigo. I hoped and prayed for the day that I would no longer feel like this, and that this moment in time would just be a distant memory I used to know. Little did I know that even with age, heartbreak does not get easier. In my case, it got worse.
I now understand what Olivia Rodrigo meant when she talked about the “heartbreak that kept on giving” that inspired her hit debut album, Sour. This pain was a lasting ache that lingered for months upon months upon months. Whenever I felt that things were getting better, it only took a Taylor Swift song to have me falling apart all over again. I have rifled through countless crushes and had my fair share of failed talking stages; however, none of them even seemed to compare to the magnitude of this one love that I had felt not so long ago.
I fall in love everyday, and I don’t consider that to be a bad thing. Whether it be towards people or not, my strong feelings of adoration know no bounds. I have fallen in love with movies, books, food (especially), and even articles of clothing that I can’t seem to throw away no matter how old and tattered they are. But the way my heart beat for this boy was something I had never experienced before. The way I fell so fast and so deeply with no regard for a safety net was intense beyond belief. All my friends watched as this saucer-eyed, foolish little girl dreamt about this boy with a smile so unforgettable it is still etched into my brain to this day.
It has been twelve months since my first real heartbreak. I was a sophomore in college on the precipice of a complete life transformation. I was applying to universities and getting ready to finally leave the little life I had back in San Diego, California. And, yet, the only thing that mattered to me was how my heart leapt out of my chest whenever I saw this one boy. I romanticized every little glance, touch, compliment, conversation, and butterfly-inducing smile. I can’t help it, I’m a Cancer and an avid romcom watcher. I felt like Jenna Rink in 13 Going On 30 when she finally saw a grown Mark Ruffalo. I felt the awe and excitement of experiencing an adult crush. It felt so much more mature, so much more real. Sure, I’d had feelings for other people before, but this was different. So, you can imagine how much more devastating it was when it was finally over.
It was unbearable. The day is still crystal clear in my mind. I hopped into my little blue Subaru, drove to the beach, and sobbed like I’ve never sobbed before in my life. When he let me down, he told me I deserved the world. That didn’t make it any better. Crying and Conan Gray’s Superache was a part of my daily agenda. I spent so many nights tucked away underneath my bed covers, single-handedly flushing my dignity down the toilet and setting feminism back centuries. It took hours upon hours of 500 Days of Summer rewatches and long cry-in-the-car worthy drives to get disgustingly overpriced matcha lattes to heal my bruised ego and, even now, I am left with a callus on my heart.
Yes, the situation was unfortunate and, sure, the sting has dulled, but it never fully goes away. The pain wasn’t because I couldn’t have someone. As a college student, I’ve come to understand that many people are only meant to stay for a season. The real pain was understanding that I could give and give all I could to another human being and still be unwanted. I could put my heart on the line and, at the end of the day, it could still lead to nothing. I could think about a person all the time, they could make me anxiously toss and turn in my sleep, meanwhile I wasn’t even really a thought in their head. And that wasn’t his fault; he didn’t have that space in his heart for me, and that’s okay.
Yes, the situation was unfortunate. But, in many ways, the fortunate outweighs the unfortunate. This heartbreak has shown me the capacity I have for love. I hurt deeply and I love strongly and, because of that, I know that my life will be filled with so many beautiful moments. I have a big heart and I’m proud to wear it on my sleeve. I don’t mind being alone while still simultaneously dreaming about a happily ever after because I know that one day it’ll all work out for me and, when it does, I know that it’ll be special and will have been worth the wait. Sure, I’d be lucky to be able to love someone someday, but I hope that person also knows how lucky they would be to be loved by me. Happy Valentine’s Day, and thank you to this boy. You told me I deserve the world. Now I think I do, too.