June 26, 2013


Sometimes, you meet someone and realize, that they are the person you want to spend the rest of your life with. You meet them when you are sixteen, nineteen, twenty-two, twenty-five, you meet them when you are twenty-six. You probably will meet them when you are thirty, or thirty-two. But every time you think, that this is it. And every time it is better, and more intense, and more happy. Until it ends. And it always ends. As humans, we take a while to realize, that it always ends, because time is just a thing. But, you can learn from pain, it's an effective way of learning. It helps us to compress and conceive our emotions in times of heartbreak.

When I was younger, my heartbreak usually resulted from me obsessing over finding true love based on the wrong things. Life is that way. You are thrown into holes over and over, you crawl out over and over, covered in regret and defeat, deprived of your dignity. But what can you do, other than start over and move on? The alternatives will leave you with nothing. So there you are, moving on… and moving on. It becomes such a natural process, and they say it gets easier with time. And they may be right. But I say, young love is important. Because we get a sense for idealism that only young love can formulate. And it fosters creativity like nothing else. It is, in my eyes, the onliest and most crucial experience that will determine how we will love for the rest of our lives.

At age 16, I felt for the first time, in my heart, the necessity of losing against life. On the hottest day in July, early morning, the person I loved stepped on a train, threw his backpack into the cabin, turned around and said "I am sorry. I just don't love you." I didn't run after the train. I didn't watch it disappear in the distance, to dwell on the fact that something I wanted so badly was getting further and further away from me. Instead, I sat down on the ground, until dark, and tried to figure out how I could ever move on from this. The void I entered was to become a part of my adult life. I should many times feel what I felt that day, and every single time it should become ever more demanding.

Ten years later, I am enduring a different kind of heartbreak, one that turns out to be the greatest challenge love ever presented me. Unsure if this will be the start, or the end of something, I go to bed shivering over uncertainty, then wake up shivering over uncertainty. When you meet someone, who you are compatible with to the extent where they are strong when you lose focus, and where you're strong when they lose faith, isn't that how it's supposed to be? That feeling, where the love from the other manifests in a way that nothing makes more sense than for them to stay in your life forever.

Falling in love makes more sense than most things. It makes you laugh when you want to cry and cry when you want to laugh. Holding the other person and be safe, knowing you've finally found that arm to lie in, for the very rest of time. But soon you won't be able to hold the other person anymore, won't feel safe anymore, and the heartbreak becomes as real as the beauty, brought into being by two lonesome hearts. Reality is a toxic place for an idealist. The incapability to inhale, and that pressure on your chest -you know the deal - it becomes an everyday endeavor.

And then the day comes, that day where they will board a plane and fly across that loathsome body of saltwater. The ocean, again, shattering things like no other (I do prefer the Mediterranean or Baltic Sea, smaller water masses, they're less likely to turn against you). This is a recurring theme in my life, and perhaps I should become involved with time travel again. Time travel is essential in times of heartbreak, and we all know it. Let’s save that for another day.

The truth is, you merely move on. And you wonder if this, too, will pass, this heartbreak, and if it will take with it the beauty that was so apparent once, so essential. Because the beauty, that is so deeply inscribed in our memory, that made all this heartbreak somehow bearable, in the end, is what keeps us believing that it was worth it. It is what makes us fall in love again, knowing that heartbreak will follow sooner or later. 

But the beauty I felt wont fade, not this time. The bitterness, the kind that usually comes with heartbreak, is nonexistent.  And that’s when you smile, and when you know: There will be beauty, always. And it helps so much, to recognize, that the older we get, and the more we have to withstand, we can still feel so strongly about something, that has the potential to perhaps, in one short moment, take everything from us. But we have to take our chances. I am taking this one. 

Life is that way.

1 comment:

  1. Hey Anna! :) I'm studying International Studies in Den Haag at the moment, this is how I came across your blog. I just wanted to let you know how beautiful this post was, and it really helped me see things clearer. Thank you, please continue writing. Love, Svenja.