In the films, heartbreak is understood as something done to someone, right? It’s outside of their control entirely. Mine isn’t. It’s entirely self-inflicted. I had someone who loved me, truly and deeply. She knew who I was, got all my little caveats, and despite even the strangest amongst them she still took me as her partner. She communicated with me and wanted to grow constantly with me. She saw us both as we were: imperfect humans who could come together and build something beautiful. Only I didn’t do that. I withheld my feelings from her about how I found the more difficult parts of our relationship. That caused me to feel pressure, caused me to act out, and made her feel like she was causing damage. I wasn’t honest about who my friends were: I have female friends, but because I was worried about how that might come across I kept it a secret. I didn’t cheat, but Christ I may as well have done, keeping information like that away from my partner. Safe to say by the end, I not only broke her trust in me, I also ended things by saying that it was all too much for me- i.e, I couldn’t handle her. Imagine that: suggesting your own partner is intolerable. I can’t even imagine the damage that caused her. I have apologised. I wish I could a thousand times over, but we’re apart now and doubtless she’s moving on with her life. I was probably wrong to reach out to her after four months, but I never apologised when we broke up. I owed her that. I had a glimmer of hope that there would be some sort of reply to the letter I wrote her, but how selfish is it to hope for a reply from the person whose heart you broke?

I find myself now having waves crashing against the weakened barriers of my soul over and over again. Grief for the relationship I lost. The love I still hold for her. The regrets over my behaviours at the beginning, middle, end and aftermath. The dishonesty, the hiding of feelings, and so much more. After our relationship ended, I threw myself into work and the gym as a way to soothe my feelings. Ultimately, I didn’t spend enough time processing my emotions and really acted out. I went onto dating apps just for the company. I had a void to fill, but nothing seemed to work at all. Only over time did that cycle of pain and reacting poorly to that pain lead me to where I am now: heartbroken all over again, shackled to regret, and so completely convinced that I am a terrible person who doesn’t deserve love.

Like I said, in the films heartbreak is something that’s done to you. Mine is so completely self-inflicted and I’m not quite sure how to move through it. Writing, I guess, is a start. Catharsis. To anyone who has ever ruined a relationship: we’ll get there.