Reminiscence

I was recently conversing with a friend about her particular situation with the men in her life and something she said struck me in an odd way. In reference to the favorite of her "options," as she termed it, she quite flatly said "I know he'll break my heart" because of what she sensed as indifference toward her emanating from him. I honestly didn't know how to respond to her declaration (I mean, I'm a hopeful/optimistic person, and for her sake I wanted to be reassuring). It was one of those weird situations, I guess, where you have to be the individual in question in order to fully understand the whole issue, and I got the sense that she truly meant what she said. It broke my own heart to a small degree as the gravity of the scene sunk in, somehow causing my temporal lobe to remind me of the first time my heart was broken by a boy I loved. (And also by strange happenstance, "Un bel di vedremo" from Madame Butterfly just popped up on my playlist - how appropo).

No... you read that right - I did truly love once. Yes, it may be hard to believe coming from a virgin-lipped 25 yr old, but physical displays of affection aren't necessarily indicative of what's occurring between two people. Not going to lie, it'd be nice, but not requisite. I was young, about 18...and I was lead down a wonderful, yet torturous path that taught me a great deal about myself that I never thought possible. Even now, it still pangs a little, but the sting and throb have long since subsided and I wouldn't trade it for the world.

I guess if I had to say something to my friend, in retrospect, it would be, "Be brave." The joys and pains from the attachments we make in this life are special, as they teach us, mold and refine us. They concurrently show us our frailties and our strengths, and the true power of that crazy little thing called Love. A newly broken heart is an oddly useful thing, as I sit here and reminisce about it. Yes, it's painful, horrid, and dirty, but it's the badge of honor worn by those unafraid to give of themselves, dedicated to a cause they were truly invested in.

I wish I could say that I'm always fearless when I approach new potential relationships now, but even though I can't (yes, I still get scared, second-guess myself and HIM, go through brief flares of jealous anger followed by quiet self-reproach, the whole gambit), I know that wounds do heal and that with each "failure" comes a rededication to a cause higher than oneself.

Hm...

Maybe I should have my heart broken more regularly....