breakin up is hard to do.

breaking up may be hard to do, but if i’ve learnt anything along the way about a broken heart, it’s that it’s never really quite broken at all.

those jolts of pain in your chest (when your heart sputters out and skips a beat, your breath gets lost on its way down to your lungs, and something clamps tight around your aorta) these are, by definition: stress-induced palpitations. by realization: they are simply jolts of humanism.

for what’s more human than the salutation of our heart’s beat – a physiological reminder of the rhythm’s grave importance, if only in its absence?

these functional irregularities – spurred by emotions of love, loss, longing – these are the jolts of enlightenment that remind us to feel. to learn. to live.

an inspired heart will eventually unfurl itself from a place of comfort to one of chaos, if only to satisfy a craving for those visceral reminders of what it means to be human. a racing heart is about being alive.

regardless, when something hurts – whether deep down to the depths (pour moi only once), or a bruise to the ego, or perhaps just the simple sadness of something so very nice having an end – tis nothing more than a growing pain, yo. and each one, regardless of the level or capacity by which you feel it, each one is real. each one changes you, just a little, for all time.

i’m trying to be grateful for them…to appreciate each and every experience. each and every growing pain. each and every one of those fuckers.

just kiddin’. love all you boys, for teaching me everything i know about love and what it should be when i find it. xx