-excerpt from the diary of a 14 year-old who thought she knew heartbreak enough to write about it, in ways she hadn’t experienced.
i’m older now. but heartbreak is still my favourite vice to write about.
isn’t heartbreak our generation’s particular brand of poison?
but the fact is, this world isn’t all smiles and it isn’t all heartbreak. there’s room for every shade of grey and black and white and red and purple and blue and maroon and turquoise and and and.. until you run out of breath. and start again. and again. and again.
till your throat hurts, your voice cracks up, and you stumble on your words.
in a way, the all-encompassing nature of pain and heartbreak isn’t all that different from the world around us.
i guess, everything can be called the same if we can draw it all down to the perfect scale. perhaps that’s why poets are still carving their emotions in the folds of so many, many, many metaphors. we are living in a world where no matter how many colours have been named, there’s still room for more, no matter how many metaphors have slipped past a poet’s sword, there’s still room for more.
heartbreak, in its essence, is also like that. no matter how much you’ve been hurt before, no matter how much pain you’re in, there’s always room for more.
black or white or anything in between,
our world, and our hearts, always have room for more.
and that’s okay. to be heartbroken, is essentially, to be painted in one of the many, many hues that this world has to offer.
you laugh and you cry, you break and write sad poems out to no one in particular, and then there are days with more laughter and less crying and before you know it you’re happier than you’ve been in ages. but you cry again and start to wonder how, how, how are you back here after all those hours you spent keeping yourself happy because you believed happiness is an inside job? and then before you know it, it’s morning and you can’t quite remember what was the last song in your playlist you’d been listening to before you fell asleep, and the darkness has retreated, from your heart and from the sky, and it doesn’t hurt so much anymore as the teardrops on your pillow have dried up so it’s okay, you’ll be okay because you are a fighter and if there’s any glory left, it’s in fighting and you’ll be damned before you stop and you may not like this battle against these dark forces as you know not where they come from, but hey, you’d wage this war for ages, because oh god, happiness? happiness is like tasting the stars and you are thirsty,
thirsty for the heavens.
so if you need to fight for your happiness, you’d do it, because pain and heartbreak and all those demons?
they’re just words filling in the gaps between the ‘ands’ in every sentence that you weave for your story.
in the two years hence, if there’s something that’s made me the wiser, it’s the realisation that you can never know when it’s all over. the blackness of things fades, and with time you start to feel your numb muscles, but it’s all fleeting. nothing is temporary, not the pain, the heartbreak or the happiness.
the dark forces retreat, but they’re always there in the background, waiting for your weaker moments. and they will come, and you’ll stumble again. happiness IS an inside job, but hey, who doesn’t take a day, or a month, off?
the only constant, is the fight, sometimes to not be defeated, and sometimes, to stay undefeated.
nolite te bastardes carborundorum.
-excerpt from the desk of a sixteen-year-old who’s learning that hurting, healing, living, none of this is linear.