I hadn’t expected physical pain. A burning sensation in my chest as if a large smoldering boulder had somehow lodged there overnight. A king of drawn-out slowly unfolding panic. The exact opposite of excitement.
Around this time I discovered the meaning of the word 'misogynist'. I remember thinking it hilarious that it had 'Miss' as the prefix.
I don't care.
Combine my celibacy, with my Arctic experiment and you’ve got a potent cocktail of pent-up aggression and self-denial.
Maybe there is a law after all. Of nature. Like gravity. An unwritten axiom that governs our emotional dealings. What you do comes back to you with twice the force, fuck it, three times the force. We are not punished for our sins we are punished by them.
The pain involved in a premeditated broken heart would easily compare with a case of assault, and yet no court of law would recognise it as a crime. A broken arm heals.
Why would anyone set out to break the heart of someone they loved? Why would anyone intentionally cause that kind of pain?
Romance has killed more people than cancer. Okay, maybe not killed, but dulled more lives. Removed more hope, sold more medication, caused more tears.
They say the sea is actually black and that it merely reflects the blue sky above. So it was with me. I allowed you to admire yourself in my eyes. I provided a service. I listened and listened and listened. You stored yourself in me.
I read somewhere that when someone is in emotional shock, the area around the heart loses some of its protective fat and is therefore dangerously exposed. One well-aimed punch is not just painful; when the person who has been in shock starts to put the weight back on, the heart remains bruised, and this can lead to aortic fibrillation. It's not life threatening, but it is uncomfortable.
It’s funny how after we decide we don’t like someone, we can find reasons to support our decision, and equally the other way around.
I'm not looking for sympathy. I'm far more interested in symmetry.