Heavy heart

As painful and mildly mortifying as it is to admit, I have had my heart broken before (yes, in the romantic sense), at least 3 minor times, and 1 very messy major time. Just as I believe that people love in many different ways, I also believe that we feel heartbreak in unique ways. Mine always seem to be accompanied by physical symptoms, usually respiratory: a tightening of the chest and a sharp intake of breath, or in the case of the one messy major time, difficulty breathing for a good few seconds.

Having someone take your heart, smash it into smithereens, and hand back the mangled remains to you, apologetically or otherwise, is never easy to take. However, recently, I discovered that there is an even worse feeling: witnessing someone you love have their heart bashed into bloody bits, and seeing them suffer from it. The pain you feel, though not your own, is magnified by the helplessness to do anything to relieve the other's anguish, not to mention underlying, albeit sometimes irrational, anger towards the person who bludgeoned your loved one's heart. I can look back on my own romantic woes and reflect on them with nothing more than a tinge of bittersweet sorrow, but I have come close to tears more than once just thinking about the heartbreak of someone I care about. I guess it's hard to accept that someone could refuse to love a person you love so much.

I concede that perhaps overprotectiveness and irrational resentment may be involved in making me so distraught on a lovelorn loved one's behalf. But when it comes to the people I love, moderation and reason don't often dominate my thoughts and emotions. And no blog post can ever fully explain it.