"People tend to hold some odd concept about heartbreak." She said and sighs.
"In the movies, they paint it as those nights drenched in tears, followed by an overnight glow-up story. It's almost as if you wake up one fine morning and you transform into your most dazzling self, You dress to impress, look better than you ever have, flirt, dance the night away, and cross paths with him sparking a wildfire of jealousy with someone new."
"But almost always, dealing with the pain of heartache is silent, lonely and makes you do ridiculous things."
"For example leaving the office on a Friday evening and instead of going to your car, you inexplicably steer into the street of his apartment. You spin a tale in your mind where your eyes lock, and he apologizes. You dash past the very where he once gave you a tender kiss on your lips, the early summer breeze a silent witness. You blur the line between intuition and hope, entertaining the thought that perhaps another chance is in the cards."
"Suddenly, your eyes filling with tears mark the moment of realization. You're out here on a Friday night, all in the desperate hope of a chance encounter while he made the choice to leave, without a comment, without a goodbye. You feel the desire surge to go back to that street, to ring his apartment bell and confront him to unlock a semblance of peace for the battle you are fighting in your mind."
"But you don't. You swallow the urge, like bitter medicine. You go back to your car, and head home. You make a cup of tea, and apply your homemade rosemary oil to your hair. You remind yourself that some stories are written with an ending already in place. And within that solitude you feel tonight, you discover the first steps toward the rediscovery of yourself."
