A Lesson Called Heartbreak.

So, I knew that I was pretty lucky to get to the ripe old age of 20 without having my heartbroken. My own impulsive choices and reckless acts went unpunished and I often turned my back on things without a second glance because there was something new, something attractive and shiny dangling in front of me.

I have never had to play the broken hearted girl, until now.

But the thing that saddens me the most in all of this is how I have made other people feel - I have broken some people and left them to pick up the pieces - and that makes me feel like a monster.

So to you - the ones that I tore apart, and to everyone who has ever had to nurse a broken heart - I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the tears you shed wishing I would call. I'm sorry that I turned my back on you so coldly. I'm sorry for every night you thought the loneliness might choke you, for every night that you prayed for the sickness in your stomach and pain in your chest to stop - even just long enough to get to sleep. I'm sorry that I didn't care enough to check how you were getting on. I'm sorry for every flash of white hot optimism you had when you got a text. I'm sorry for the hours you spent looking at my old messages, wondering if the words were really true. I'm sorry if I made you question what love even means. I'm sorry for those truly desperate, desolate hours where you dreamed I would show up at your door.

I'm sorry, because, now I feel it too.

Being heartbroken has not made me bitter - it has not made me believe that love isn't real. It has made me realise that acts have consequences, that fairy tales don't always have happy endings and it has also made me proud of how strong I know I can be. I was alone when I penned this post, alone, desperate, tears flooding my face and sobs reverberating from my chest. I gagged, heaved, praying that some of the nausea would leave my body, but it didn't - and it still hasn't. Healing anything takes time, and this is something that will take a while.

I have cried, I have collapsed into my bed, I have practically had my parents and sister put me on suicide watch. I have pulled myself together, smiled into the mirror, reminded myself that I am more than this, more than how I was treated. I have put on some make up, showered and cleansed my skin, I have listened to 'Boss Ass Bitches That Could Destroy Your World' playlist on Spotify (seriously recommend if you're going through hell) and I have remembered that time will always pass, that I won't feel like this forever.

Finally - to the one who has broken me, I hope that you can one day stop lying to yourself and everyone who tries to love you. Thank you for making me momentarily weak so that one day I can be stronger than ever. I know that hope is a dangerous thing but I will always continue to have hope that we will all meet someone capable of returning a love that makes us forget any suffering we faced at the hands of others.