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For MyF...I was 14. I had been totally, madly, unequivocally in love with him for about 5 months and we had been dating for 1. The bell had just rung and I was on my way out, when he caught me on the stairs and told me to break up. I answered "sure, no prob", returned home, went straight to my room and cried my eyes out.
The first days after the break-up, the scenes of our relationship played and replayed in my mind, like a movie I was obliged to watch again and again, unable to find the stop button. Every day, I prayed that everything would change, that he would understand he made a mistake and come back.
He never did. On the contrary, he seemed perfectly happy, joking around with his friends. Not a single sign of missing me, though he kept on talking to me. I was mad at him for his kind behavior, for not hurting me in some way - then, it would have been easy, I would just say "what a bastard" and end of story. I was also mad at my parents, who did not let me go out as often as he did - if they did, maybe we would still be together. I was even mad at my friends, who didn't seem to realize my grief and kept on talking about the same insipid things we used to talk about every day before the catastrophe.
The days were passing and my feelings for him remained as intense as always. I was in love and I could do nothing about it. Sure, I was in love and alone also before our relationship, but at least I hoped that we would be together. And we did, and he left me and now I had lost all hope of finding comfort. Never again would we be together; I was obliged to keep on living with my heart full of emotions that were addressed to him and could no way be expressed and shared. I felt like a balloon in the verge of popping, unable to get rid of what inflated me and oh god, I was so full it hurt.
Nobody knew it, though. To the rest of the world, I kept on pretending that I am fine, no big deal. I was too proud to let anyone know that I was devastated. "Devastated" is not even close to describing what I felt: the world had turned dark and upside down, without the singlest sign it would go right again.
Then one day, I got out of my bubble of grief just for few moments, which were nevertheless enough to hear my best friends complaining about their love problems: the first one was in love with someone who was totally unaware of her existence, the second one had been rudely rejected. And, suddenly, it hit me: at least, I had got him! How many girls out there could say the same? How many girls were suffering, silently or loudly, for someone who was more than obviously not returning or ever going to return the same feelings?
After the months I had spent mourning, this sudden positive thought was a true revelation. And, combined with the fact that I was not crying at his thought any more, made me realize that everything is gonna be ok and that "time heals everything" is true, not some crap people say when they run out of advice.
Of course, that wasn't the only time my heart broke, neither the only one it healed. In the course of years, it happened again and again, in the vicious circle of love. So, little sis, take my story and welcome on the ride! Fasten your belt: it is fast, it is dizzy, it is scary and risky but trust me: you won't want to get off of it!
