One of those ideas in life you cannot truly explain is heartbreak. Yes, you could give someone a definition, but they will never really understand it… Until they experience it themselves.
Pedro Herrero, a funny and chaotic Spanish commentator, once said in a very entertaining interview: “Life goes more or less about how to die.”
Why is it that the wiser people often seem to be the most conflicted?
Life is precisely that: building yourself and living in such a way that, when death finds you, you can go peacefully. That you made the most out of this unique and singular chance to be alive.
I cannot imagine life without the possibility of love. Love is such an anomaly… Why do we “love”? Wouldn’t it be easier to adapt to solitude and live entirely on our own?
Having a heart —beyond the mechanical device it literally is— is a privilege. Experiencing life through the lens of loving deeply, without reservations, knowing you might have loved poorly but at least sincerely, profoundly, and honestly… and more importantly, having been loved in return, sincerely, profoundly, honestly, and unconditionally… that is the definition of being human.
The immense satisfaction that love gives, the indescribable warmth of knowing you are loved, is the ultimate gift. A privilege reserved for a lucky few.
Let me emphasize this: many people live their entire lives without honest, pure love. Not once.
And then comes heartbreak. It is better to experience the shattering thunder of heartbreak than to have never known it at all.
Heartbreak can come from a sibling, a parent, a friend, a broken promise to yourself, or a romantic partner. Like the wind, it can arrive from any direction.
It is the reminder that you cared so much for something—or someone—that you opened the gates of your heart, knowing full well you risked this piercing pain.
A broken heart is both proof of your ability to love and a certificate that you have truly lived.
I don’t remember my first heartbreak—luckily, it has long faded. But I do remember others: family, aspirations, ideals, friends… and, of course, women.
I have been fortunate enough to feel the warm breath of a loving woman many, many times. Yet, I believe I have truly been in love only twice in forty years.
As fate would have it, both experiences collided when I was almost forty. Unsurprisingly, the experience hurt more than the average heartbreak. Life is about choices.
Push forward. It is significantly better to suffer heartbreaks than to not live at all.