Over the past few months, I've grown to learn a thing or two about heartbreak. Without diving into the details of it, the war between what you think and what you feel is something we're all familiar with. It's messy and irrational and most times, it makes you feel like you're losing your mind.

At first, I wanted to name this "The Science of Heartbreak". As a logic-based thinker, I thought that perhaps there's a way to navigate around it, a way in which I'd be able to talk about. Like how to find your way through a forest, or how to get your feet out of quicksand. But frankly, you can't offer roadmaps when you're lost. You can't offer solutions when you're sinking.

There is no science to heartbreak. You feel, and think, then feel, and feel some more, and that's all there is. Some people grow numb, others turn to rage, while some shatter to pieces. It's different for everyone. My experience with it has sort of placed me into the "emotionally unavailable" category. Yes, that exists. Don't laugh.

What it means, for me, is that it translates into how I roll my eyes at love songs. (Unless they're Disney songs. Nothing will make me turn away from Disney songs.) and how I grow sick at the thought of relationships. When my friends and I slowly approach the topic of love and "future goals" or their "ideal marriage" (Yes, we have these conversations. Again, don't laugh.), I find myself uttering,
"Yeah, I don't know if that's for me."
I could feel it then. Their eyes were on me, subtly thinking that I've definitely, officially lost my mind. My mind's been in a storm, sure, but I definitely haven't lost it. In fact, I think it's taking charge. Soon enough, the conversation proceeds, I assure them that I don't "mean it", and we laugh some more. They brush it off, and so do I. But it doesn't change what my little heart whispers: You've lost all faith in me.


Love is simple, but people are the most complicated beings on earth. Humans are so complex. We're made of sparks in tiny neurones, abstract codes too strenuous to decipher, a mass bundle of joy and pain and past and present and highs and lows. We're impossible creatures.

My impossibility was made known to me at a time where I found myself making a decision I knew was going to break me. See, the things we choose don't necessarily make us happy, even though they're for the best of us and those around us. And the truth is, you won't always like yourself for it. But I knew well enough to not let anything get in the way. You shouldn't play with other people's feelings just because you're unsure of your own. So when I decided to hit the reset button on everything in that moment, much like pushing everything off of your bed before going to sleep, I knew what was coming.


I have stopped fearing
the breaking of hearts
of homes
of dreams
for when they're broken
something utterly,
completely, hauntingly
can be built
from their pieces
-Noor Unnahar


Selfish acts can sometimes save your life. After momentarily ending an emotionally demanding relationship, and after the strong surge of sadness that crashed into my window sills like a tsunami wave, I finally could breathe. Of course, by ending something tough, I had to go through something equally as tough. But when you allow yourself to be dragged through some stages of hell, at least you come out strong. I may be unsteady, and often times confused, but now, I'm no longer soft, and I don't consider myself fragile. I'm still not sure about whether or not that's a good thing, but we can't apologize forever.

You might see me writing more of these long, full-rant, thoughts-and-feelings, brain-dumping, not-to-be-read-in-the-first-place posts. I'm not trying to share anything. I'm solely writing for my own personal therapy. It's easier when I see my own words.

So at the time being, I'm okay. I'm genuinely okay. I've learned and relearned my tiny bits of lessons, and as with all wounds, it's healing, and as with all things, life still goes on afterwards. My heart might be a little stone cold, but well,

at least stones don't break.