Few things in life are as painful as heartbreak, to any
capacity, in my opinion. And while I don’t consider myself to be a dreary
person, I’ve always harbored somewhat of an interest in it, as emotions tend to
dictate much of what I do in my day-to-day life; and they certainly are the
driving force behind my creativity.
This isn’t, of course, to say that I’ve never experienced
fulfillment when it comes to matters of the heart. It just seems to me that
ruminating over something as convoluted as heartbreak not only comes so naturally
to someone as effusive as myself (perhaps because I’ve felt it more and for
longer amounts of time than I have conversely), but it also appears to be a
subject most people don’t care much to speak about, and for many valid reasons.
With that being said, even as emotionally developed and intelligent as I am, I’ve
found that listening to others, primarily other artists, speak of their
first-hand accounts, helps me to further uncover what much of my own really
means. By hearing others' stories, I apply some of their lessons to myself, and
the bigger picture comes into sharper focus. Needless to say, I’ve learned that
this is also such a universal and effective way to relate to each other.
I like to think of myself as a cat. I’ve got nine lives. And
each time something broke my heart and pulled the rug out from under me, I lost
a life. (I’m currently down five of them. haha) I will say, however, that it
wasn’t until I was 19 and on my 7th life that I knew what romantic
heartbreak really was.
I had just graduated high school. I knew that there was a
much better life for me outside the parameters of my hometown there in Missouri.
So I left for California. I opted to move into my Uncle’s home in Delano,
alongside my grandparents and two young cousins. It was time for me to hit the
reset button on my life. And back then, myspace was still a social media Goliath
(though it was beginning to wane in popularity). I remember creating a brand
new account. And once I did, I began searching for all of my same friends, so
as to keep in contact with them as I settled into everything. For reasons I
still cannot completely explain, I recall searching for this one particular
person who virtually befriended me when I was still in my home state and in
high school (going through the worst of life I’d known at that point), who
lived in Oxnard, which I later found was actually about 3 or so hours away from
my new home, headed north. Alas, I found him and re-added.
Maybe it was somewhat of a comfort in foreign territory
being able to point out a “familiar” face, so to speak. I remember that he used
to comment on my page and photos frequently. I figured there would be no harm
in actually interacting with this individual. After all, even if I made new
friends far away, at least it was a start. At least we were in the same state.
haha
What commenced as an innocent exchange over the internet
slowly morphed into a pursuit, with him comfortably and confidently expressing
such, so much so, that we had eventually traded numbers/BBM (BlackBerry
Messenger) pins (BlackBerry still had some clout back then too) and spoke on
the phone almost every day and for hours at a time. What was perhaps the most
confusing out of all of this for me was that I remember thinking of him as
someone I didn’t think physically attractive right out the gate (I was pretty shallow, if we're being upfront). It took a lot
of conversation, finesse, and humorous charm on his part to crack open what I
had tried so hard to keep away from him that whole time: myself and the truth about who I was and what
I had just experienced in high school and prior to moving away (2nd
time in my life I “died”, as lightly mentioned earlier).
It was very powerful, allowing myself to open up the way I
did, and he made me feel so comfortable doing it. Somehow, in all of this, all
the right things were said on both parts, and we grew so overwhelmingly
attached to each other over such a short amount of time. The intensity only
grew as the days passed. And without getting lost in all the minuscule details,
had planned to meet each other here in Los Angeles, as we both knew it was where
we wanted to live. (That’s about the only thing that has seemed to work out in
all of this, even nine or so years later. haha)
Well, in the days leading up to coming out here to meet,
Valentine’s Day came. He had surprised
me with a mailed package full of gifts – I mean, some of the coolest things
anyone could ever put together, and a poetic card. And even to this day, remains
to be the only Valentine I ever had, the only time in my life anyone has ever
done something like that for me. And because of the trauma I had lived through
before all this, was so unexpected and even unbelievable that someone could
care for me as much as he did.
Because I didn’t even care for myself.
I was in utter awe to think that this was all happening. And
so, as young kids tend to do, I fell so hard for him that day. I had reached a
new level of infatuation. I wouldn’t go as far as saying I fell in love; but I
most certainly was headed there. However, that was cut short, as a day after, an
argument (over what, I don’t even remember) ensued and feelings were hurt, and
ultimately, for him, extinguished.
I remember when he dumped me. He did it over text. And he
did it when I was at work. I cried so hard in the restroom that day on my
break, thinking about how close I came to my first relationship, feeling as
strongly as I did for him, and knowing that it was all over from there. He just
didn’t want me anymore. His mind was made up (such a Cancer). I suppose you could say that shock was greater. After all, how could this happen? Am I not what he wanted? Was it all just a game? Why me?
What happened from that point on, I believe, drove me a bit
insane. Even as I moved back to Springfield the first time around , found
myself in a perpetual state of anguish, reliving old conversations, replaying
heartfelt memories, crying myself to sleep. There was nothing you could say to
me. I was so emotionally wracked that I held onto him for years on end, believing
that anyone else would pale in comparison (turned out to be pretty true) and
vowed to stay away from romance altogether (kinda ended up actually doing
that).
It was pretty ugly for me. And very dark. But I knew as an
artist that the only way out of this was to create about it. I wrote SO MANY
poems and songs about him and what happened, how I felt. And while it took what
felt like an eternity to completely exorcise him, it eventually happened.
It changed me. It transformed me. I was never to be the same
again. And while the pain subsided, I took rather sordid and perhaps cynical
lessons from the outcome and how he treated me afterwards, with me moving
forward. Heartbreak for me has always served somewhat as a reminder that not
everything in life goes according to plan. What’s more, romance almost NEVER goes the way you want it, with who you want it to be, because
to find someone that falls for you the same way, at the right place, at the
right time, begins to feel more improbable as the years amass. It only gets harder and harder with social
media, dating apps, instant gratification, etc.
So here I am with only four lives left. I’ve grown reticent
in many aspects regarding romantic interaction. And I’m not as impetuous with myself as I was when he and I
got involved. If anything, I’m much more protected about things,
simply because the thought of experiencing that again would probably take what’s
left of those lives.
If anything, I’ll continue creating. I bet by now, you’re
wondering who this mystery man is. Well, you can actually find out in my debut
anthology A Boy Like Me, linked HERE: https://www.authorhouse.com/Bookstore/BookDetail.aspx?BookId=SKU-001153723
I have a whole chapter dedicated to him. Funny how things
turn full circle, isn’t it? I went from being so forlorn and refraining from
acknowledging it, to publishing the very thing that at the time, hurt me the
most.
They say curiosity killed the cat. But my dear, satisfaction
ALWAYS brings her back. And I am here.
Nine Lives, a Heart of Glass
Reki*
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