The stubborn organ we call “heart”

Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won’t either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could.”
― Louise Edrich

Ever had to read that one sentence or hear those few words that shatter your heart into a million pieces? and then you keep reading it just to feel the pain again and again…and again.To be very honest, before I started writing today’s post, I couldn’t bring myself to putting it in words, and as I sat there staring at the empty page with just the cursor blinking, I felt it break me in a million ways, because I still feel the pain and I hate to have to admit that. It’s like no matter how much a person knew you needed them…they left. You can’t just help but doubt that they ever loved you or that it was a lie and the worst part is the silly lies you keep telling yourself to make it go away.You won’t know what to do with the pictures or the letters or all the little reminders and so you keep them close, hoping to find an answer soon.Then you try those tactics like trying to drink it off thinking it’ll make everything go, and it does for a while but then the blues crawl up your skin, the anger boils up and the hate starts digging in, not for them but for yourself.It hurts enough to keep you awake at night, discourage your appetite, you’ll wake up wishing it was a nightmare and that everything was fine. But then reality hits you hard. And you just want to fall, and keep falling like there is no tomorrow and it kills you to face it, but you do. Everyday. Every minute and every second.

Now if you have friends like mine, they’d have probably already explained to you how “she was not worth it” or how “he was just a player” or how “you were used” and mostly you try your best to defend him/her, and you keep annoying those friends even after 2 months past the initial breakup, talking about things like “when we first cuddled”, ” how we started talking” but then you can’t help it because everything reminds you so much of them. It sometimes even goes to the point of your best friend asking you “bas ek baar haan bol de, jutte se maarungi saale ko” (personally encountered such friends, honestly they scare me sometimes), when they cross by you in the corridor and your friends try to run to hit them or come up with elaborate plans (having him kidnapped, tie him up and throwing watermelons on him being my personal favorite), their hideous missions to make you laugh, often succeed.

But that won’t kill the pain. As harsh as it may seem, every time you see that person, or their snap chat or hear that voice that was always there to comfort you, something inside you will die and it won’t be okay for long.It’ll have been months since you felt that touch and yet it’ll be the most pain you’ll have endured. Someone will ask you about them and your voice will shake and your lips will start to quiver, you’ll feel suffocated from all the words sitting in your lungs, you’ll have to look away and rub you head as if that will get just the thoughts to go away and bags under your eyes that answer the inevitable questions asking if you slept, every muscle of your body will ache and repulse at the thought of them. You’ll feel every word they said being used as a chisel, carving in your chest. Nothing you do, will change that.

When I started to write this post, I goggled “how long does heartbreak last?”, The most popular result was “how long does heartburn last?” Which means more people suffer from heartburn than heartbreak, which is good because acid reflux couldn’t compare to the pain of heartbreak.

There are upsides to despair. you can eat all the ice-cream and your friends wont judge you, you can smoke indoors because nobody will have the heart to tell an inconsolable girl that a smoking ban has been placed, and you find that people are nice and that they care, even if the person you cared about most doesn’t. The problem is, nobody can help you. Not the films you watch alone, searching for a character that feels the same, not the shots of vodka you intoxicate yourself with and certainly not your Facebook. Alcohol and pizza may not break you heart but they won’t fill the void either.

Someone once told me, love is a mountain, not in a happy metaphorical way that you’re climbing and soon you’ll be on the other side and everything will be perfect. You’re climbing to the top, and you finally get there and it looks glorious and it’s like all the colors are more vibrant and you never felt to happy before. But once you’re on the top, you always gotta go back down. You go down the mountain, slipping and sliding down getting bruises and scrapes and it hurts. You might finally reach the bottom and it won’t hurt as much but everyone needs time to heal. And when you do, you travel up the mountain once again.

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