Whomever came up with that proverb should be punched in the face. I mean, really? After having your whole sense of being shattered into a million pieces, that is probably the second last thing youíd want to hear sitting right next to the classic you can do better or you just need time.
I donít know why we fall so hard for the people we do. Especially when there seems to be no sense of logical thought in our selection at certain points of our lives. You potentially become so blind-sighted for your deep and utter devotion for someone, that you donít even know who the hell you are anymore. You want to be so close that you would accept an invitation to live inside their ribcage. Contrastingly, they may feel differently and might tell you that they sleep better alone.
There comes a sacrificial ritual with any outset of a relationship, even if that relationship purely involves casual intercourse. You are required to give up a part of yourself in order to give birth to the creation of a new, paired identity. If this wasnít the case then when it was over we wouldnít be hugging our knees tightly to our chest rocking back and forth. Itís because after it is over you have to get up, dust yourself off, and gather the scattered pieces of you that you can find amidst the filthy, complicated remains.
Luckily for all of us, itís true that time heals all. Even when there does becomes a battle. One side of you urging to forget and move on for the sake of your sanity, and another side indulging in the nostalgia of what was. The hope within every cell of your being that youíll wake up once more to your rose-tinted coupledom glasses sitting firmly on the edge of your nose plods naively through the mud of knowledge that rewards you with the understanding that itís never going to work out. Itís like looking up and seeing a bomb falling towards your house, coming to explode on you and kill you and everything that you love. You know itís coming; you can see it coming, yet you fool yourself into thinking itís just a mockingbird making sounds which mimic that of impending doom.
If there are still feelings there, (being either reminiscent feelings or as pure as immaculate conception) then I doubt you can just be friends. Opposite ends of the spectrum possess a divine union. We may think night and day are separate but arenít they inextricably linked by the dawn? If you hate your excommunicated partner and have urges of punching them in the face, you probably just want to wrestle with them for an eternity underneath the sheets.
Working out all of this nonsense as you strut through life taking everything too seriously is a real fun-sponge. There needs to be a handbook. This definitely is not a handbook but at least now you may feel less alone. Whilst there are plenty of fish in the sea, every fish has a different set of scales.
No one should ever be made to feel worthless based on the fact they have made themselves vulnerable. Anyone who has had the strength to put themselves out there should be commended. Although it makes you hurt harder, it ultimately makes you worthy of so much more.