Writing Down a Broken Heart
About this first love they say we will never forget…
The first thing I ever wrote for myself and not for classes was a prose poem. It was a short, brutal poem about the green-eyed monster, aka jealousy. Even today, I often personify strong feelings.
At the time, I was deeply in love with my ex-boyfriend. We had a passionate, clandestine, on-and-off relationship for one year. He was my first everything and well… I wanted to marry him. I would look at him with sparkles in the eyes, over the moon and so strongly confident about the future.
But the boy — it was in high school after all — needed something else. I must admit, I was a complicated girl, overprotected and almost trapped by her mother. I was arrogant, too smart too maybe. Around my friends, I used to turn into a noisy, mocking and mean teenager.
Anyway, we broke up. I was sure we would get back together, as usual, but then he started dating her, a sweet girl with the longest legs ever. Perceptive as I was, I can’t say I didn’t see it coming. But there were Christmas holidays and I lost track of their story. We get back to school, and one week later I learned that they were a couple.
I remember the instant deep burn, in my chest. I remember the fake laugh I did, for the sake of appearances. I remember that, for months, it was so terribly hard to even breathe.
We were all in the same class so, when before that he was seating next to me or next to his friends, he would only sit with her. They were together, all the time: on breaks, in gym class, on my Facebook feed, at parties, everywhere!
Everywhere for me to see. Everywhere for me to watch the beauty of their young love. Everywhere for me to notice, to admit, that he did not care about me anymore.
I get skinnier and skinnier. I would not cry, but there was, constantly, this despair in my eyes and this pain in my heart. But I had to try to hide it from him and everyone, because of my dignity, my pride, because I already felt so humiliated. I was avoiding him but everything, even in my house, reminded me of him and our relationship.
This is were writing saved me.
This first “green-eyed monster” poem, opened a new path for me.
Since my first encounter with Harry Potter when I was eleven, I’ve read a lot. I was a member of two libraries and my dad bought us numerous books abroad. But I had never thought of writing apart from school work.
This year I did. And it changes things for me.
I wrote a lot. About betrayal, revenge, jealousy, frustration, sadness. But it was on the margins of copybooks, on loose sheets, or on my phone. At the time, it wasn’t important to keep it nor to share it with someone. This was my therapy. This was how I excavated the pain trapped in my soul.
Writing helped me finishing high school without falling in depression because of seeing them every day. This helped me when I dated this other guy, who was so intimidating and made me feel like I wasn’t enough.
When, so many years after all this story, my first love come to study in my city for his master degree, but couldn’t afford an apartment and I offer him to live at my place, with my roommate and I.
When my all body was attracted to him but I didn’t want to fall in this kind of relationship.
When I fell anyway and the guiltiness strangled me.
When we were in this insane relationship.
When he left, again.
When I realized that I was in love with him, again. But he wouldn’t look at me anymore, again.
So yeah every time my heart is full of feelings that pull me on verge of melancholia I would write. Every time I feel lost, I would write.
“I can shake off everything as I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn.”
— Anne Frank
I don’t know if it’s the nostalgia, the longing of a time where life was less complicated, or if it’s true that you never forget the first person you loved. But how can a man haunt you in such a way?
I don’t have any answers but what I can say is that all the negative feelings linked to our story, are gone. All the jealousy, envy, frustration, have been written down and days after days, I can take a deep breath and smile, as the Lord awake me for another day.
And still, I write.
Thanks for reading! Feel free to clap, comment or follow me if you’ve enjoyed it!
Ed.
