Not to brag, but no one’s ever broken my heart.
Actually, there was this one time when I had a huge crush on a girl who turned out to be secretly dating my best friend for two years but that doesn’t count. That was an infatuation and fantasy being crushed in it’s own, very specific way. But that’s why they call it a crush (get it?).
Heartbreaks are different. They run deeper than a crush. They are rooted in love and hope.
Again, not bragging, but I truly never had a broken heart. Until the day before spring break in March, 2020.
It was cold and a bit rainy, which is rare for Southern California. But the timing was poetic (nice one, Mother Nature). I escaped the intrusive drizzling and walked into McClintock for our last class of the day: acting with the head of our program, Mary Joan.
In the BFA acting program, we spend every. single. day together. Between classes, rehearsals, and hanging out on the weekends, we had spent well over three hundred hours together by March 12th, 2020. Trust me, I did the math. (Although, I’m not very good at math so do with that what you will.)
We entered the classroom slightly rattled by a university memo asking students to stay home for a couple extra weeks after spring break. We were all looking for some kind of good news that would clear the air.
We sat in chairs arranged in a large circle. Everyone was visible to each other. As I sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair, I surveyed the circle and took a moment to appreciate my classmates and the close friendship that formed. Ryan, someone that I had grown particularly close with, was sitting next to me. My professor was a couple chairs to the left of us and I remember turning to look at her when she said, “From what I’ve been hearing, we will not be returning to campus this semester.” The silence was deafening. Just last night we were arguing in a rehearsal for class about something that was not very important, yet every single person had a very passionate opinion. But now, we were too stunned to be as vocal as last night. The devastating reality of leaving the people I had seen every single day for the past semester and a half was sinking in. I do not like to cry in front of people and I struggle with being vulnerable in front of my friends, but it’s different with my cohort. Just weeks before, I was doing an exercise on a monologue for class and broke down into tears in front of everyone. In fact, we all shared parts of ourselves that we could not share with people outside of the group. That was the nature of our work and our friendship.
I sank deeper in my chair with my arms crossed over my chest. As the silence continued, I stared at the ground while a choking feeling tightened its grip at the top of my throat. My body knew that I was on the verge of tears and was trying everything it could to stop them from pouring down my cheeks in front of everyone.
“It’s not like we’ll ever see each again. We have three more years together. We’ll still talk to each other when we leave campus,”
I told myself in a last-ditch effort to hold back my tears. Suddenly, the silence broke.
“This is heart-breaking news. Allow yourselves to grieve,” said Mary Joan.
I pulled my eyes from the spot that I was staring at on the ground. As I scanned across the circle, looking at my friends, hot tears fell from my eyes. Mary Joan continued to speak, but I was too distracted by my uncontrollable and silent weeping that I only registered her reassuring tone rather than any specific words. Her efforts to console me and the rest of my friends were in vain. The tears were still rolling down my face and now my breathing was more like giant waves of oxygen and carbon dioxide that only worsened the buzzing in my hands and cheeks. Then, I felt a hand touch my shoulder. It was Ryan. He reached out and gave me a brief pat and rub on the shoulder. I looked at him, we made eye contact, and I began to cry even more. In that moment, I felt heartbreak and sadness and longing and love and comfort all at once.
My heart was broken over the time that we lost together. And the potential memories, the uncontrollable laughter, the midnight rehearsals — all of it. Like all heartbreaks, I had to heal over a box of chocolates (to be fair, I love chocolate) and distracting myself with a new hobby that become my personality for the next three months (I can make PERFECT orange-glazed scones). Now, I realize that heartbreak strengthened my love for my incredible friends.
Hmmm.
I don’t mean to be that person.
But…technically no one broke my heart romantically. So I was right.
No one’s ever broken my heart.
