Emily Autumn has a great line in one of her poems:
How to break a heart
It is not difficult
Anyone can do it
So could you, if you tried
Just find a light
And switch it off
As easy as blinking
I never realized how easy it is. I mean I’ve had my heart broken a few times. Careless words thrown at me proved just how fragile love is. It shattered from a well-aimed needle or a stray bullet. I always marveled at the power of love and how it bound me to someone. Somehow, forgetting how delicate love could be, unraveling with one snip.
My character’s heart is going to break. I haven’t worked out exactly how. But having gone through it myself, I know it will tear her apart. But she will get through it.
I remember the first time my heart broke what hurt the most: Knowing it wouldn’t kill me. Instead, I would have to endure months of pain. Each day a bitter reminder that I was once again alone in the world, cut loose from the ties that bound me. The sun shined, the bird chirped and the rest of the world could give a rat’s ass about how I felt.
I hated that feeling, hated playing the waiting game. Most of all, I hated knowing that I brought it all upon myself because loving someone always opens you up to hurt. It’s the risk you take.
But I’ve also learned that all those feelings can be locked inside a big trunk and stored in some forgotten corner of your soul. Repressed away until you feel nothing.
In the end, life can be whatever you make of it. Broken hearts mend. Loss is overcome. And one day you smile after months of sadness. I can’t quite flip a switch and make it all go away, but I learned to wallow and then bury it. To mourn and then move on. I think that is perhaps the greatest tragedy in life: Knowing you can survive anything, but wishing you didn’t have to.
How did you deal with your first broken heart? Do you prefer to read about someone bouncing back or wallowing and slowly climbing out of it? Which makes a better heroine in your mind?