When my friends get their heart broken, I feel completely useless. While saying things like “you’re going to get through this," “it’s okay to not be okay," “you deserve so much more," and “one day at a time" all sound really good on paper, but it doesn’t accomplish much. While surprising them with a frozen treat might bring them temporary peace of mind and remind them that I care about them, it doesn’t accomplish much. While texting them quotes and checking up on them sounds like the right thing to do, it doesn’t accomplish much. I know that and I hate that because the people in my life deserve so much and I hate when I can’t find the right words to bring comfort and joy back into their lives. So I did what I do best; I reflected on my own experiences and figured out the things I learned from some of the most heartbreaking moments of my life.

I’ve been wanting to write about this for a long time, but I did not want my past to distract from my present because even though my present isn’t perfect, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I’m in a really good place in my life and I have an amazing boyfriend who has stood by me for two years. So instead of writing about my past as a way to bring closure for myself, I really hope to inspire others about the things I learned, the things I took away and the things that made me who I am today. Maybe it will help you establish a foundation of inner peace in your own life. This is the best I can do.

My first relationship was centered around young fields of sunflowers, giddy butterfly kisses and movie marathon snuggles. Middle school slow dancing with an arms length apart, asking our parents to drive us everywhere, sitting together on the bus until the boy/girl rule was reinforced. For almost two years, we transitioned into adolescence while holding hands and watching the fireworks at Donati park. We were inseparable. Halfway through our sophomore year of high school, we could feel that the end was approaching. We came to a mutual agreement on a cold February night and I think I cried more than I ever have in my entire life; at least, the most I had ever cried over a boy up to that point.

Looking back, this was the best and worst heartbreak I experienced. It was the worst because it was the first. I assumed I would be able to get through it but I had no proof. There was no textual evidence, no magic crystal ball; I had nothing but my own two hands and a heart full of emptiness to convince myself that someday I would love again. It was my best heartbreak because it doesn’t even compare to the pain I’ve felt since then. To be honest, he’s the only boy from my past who has always looked out for me, asked how my family is doing, and reaches out to me during the month of July. Thanks for being an awesome ex-boyfriend, J.

A couple months later, I met a boy who literally flipped my world upside down and inside out. He was my most painful heartbreak to this day, and I never even dated the guy. I met him through a diabetes support group and I thought it was the coolest thing that I had made all these new friends who share the struggles of this lifelong disease. I began talking to one of them and before long, we were texting every day. He sent me messages detailed with such sweet compliments that nobody had ever said to me before. I could feel myself begin to fall and I made my intentions clear; I was really starting to like him and that was huge for me.

He was never quite clear what his intentions were, though, and each time I felt him become distant, I gave him the opportunity to leave. I told him if he doesn't want to be with me then he needed to press the big red button and walk away. Not only did he continue to lead me on, he began playing games. Ignoring my messages, reading them without replying, not reading them for weeks. I tried everything; I ignored him back, I bombarded him with guilt, but mostly I begged for him to just say goodbye and to give me the closure I needed. I had never felt so strongly for someone who wasn’t even committed to me and I couldn't move on without a goodbye. I deserved more than that.

Finally his goodbye came, but his name continued to dominate my screen as he returned to me again and again and again, dragging it on for months. Once I figured out he wasn’t coming back to stay, I never opened my heart to him with the same vulnerability as before. There was so many unanswered questions, so much hope for him to change his mind, so many moments of giddiness every time he messaged me. I convinced myself that he was just as emotionally attached to me as I was to him; why else would someone come back over and over again? If he honestly had no feelings for me, why wouldn't he just forget all about me and find someone else's heart to play around with? Why did he choose me if he wasn't really going to choose me?

Because he did like me. But I am white. He is not. And that was a problem.

That's what I keep telling myself, anyway. It was a deadly, toxic cycle that I had become addicted to, obsessed with and drove myself crazy over. It took a long time to find a way out of it. If the Indian boy who broke my heart ever reads this, I want you to know that you forever changed me; for better or for worse, I was never the same after you.

Then I found a Bangladeshi pebble that contained both frozen embers and fiery dewdrops. His personality was very intense in every aspect; he was extremely generous, thoughtful, hardworking and funny. He was also extremely destructive within his own head and extremely controlling in the depths of his heart. Weekly bouquets of flowers turned into lies about cigarettes. Opening car doors turned into shutting me out and blaming me for everything that went wrong in his life. Innocent neighborhood barbecues turned into a verbal attack of insecurities.

His anxiety and panic attacks controlled his every move. He tried therapy and medication but claimed it didn't work. He was a good man with good intentions, but I will never forget the rage in his eyes when I told him I could not commit to the idea of marriage as a seventeen year old girl. I will never forget my mother taking the phone out of my hand, telling him he needs to calm down and that she will not bring me to see him while he is screaming so violently. I will never forget the way he stormed into the library, and in front of all my friends, asked to speak to me in the corner so he could scold me for not meeting him in the cafeteria like he asked me to. When he went to college, our breakup followed; it was long, it was overdue, and it was intense. In order for him to let me go, he had to hate me.

Believe it or not I still cared for him until the bitter end, but I knew I had to get out of the unhealthy tornado that had taken over my universe. I broke his heart and hurt him so deeply, and to this day I still feel guilty. I feel guilty that when he reached out I was too nice and told him I missed him too; I didn’t realize he would interpret that as me wanting him back. I feel guilty that he was in such a panic that he called both of my parents on the phone and we all sat there together ignoring his calls as tears streamed down my face. I feel guilty that I had to let him go the way I did; messy, painful and confusing (for both of us).

So my life story goes a little like this: My first love taught me commitment. He taught me that determination goes a long way and that Stairway to Heaven is always a good song. He taught me that good things don’t last forever but that he would always support me and wish me nothing but happiness. My almost love taught me that not only could my heart heal, it could find a way to open up again. He taught me that not everyone who wants to be together can actually be together. He taught me that I am stronger than I ever realized and that I give people too many chances. He taught me what to look for, that there’s no such thing as proper closure, and that sometimes the only option is to forgive and forget. My messy love taught me that sometimes it’s not about me. He taught me that you need to give as much of yourself as possible into everything that you do and everyone that you meet. He taught me that imperfections can be beautiful but they can also be destructive. He taught me that it’s more important to be there for someone through a transitional period in their life and let them go, rather than trying to salvage what is left of the broken pieces.

Since then there have been other dark irises that have almost claimed my heart, but when you are a byproduct of the complicated aftermath of love and heartbreak, you learn to protect yourself. I may not know the right words to say, to fix everything, to make it go away. I do know that have been truly blessed and lucky with the love that has been sent my way. But I too have felt so much pain, guilt and heartache over the years and I have somehow discovered that the most peaceful thing about the cycle of love and heartbreak is trying to find it’s purpose. Of course, take as much time as you need to go through the grieving process, for it’s just that; a process. Know that your ultimate goal isn’t to heal back to the person you were before because chances are this heartbreak changed you. But focus on what it taught you. What did you take from the relationship, what did you learn about yourself and how can you use that information to pull you forward into the next chapter.

My past has created this chamber of sensitive sincerity and admirable appreciation inside my heart. This is allowing me to live in the moment and be the person I want to be, surrounded by the people I want to embrace every single day. I hope this helps you get to a better place because all I want is to see your heart smile again. For the sake of your future love, I hope it happens soon. Until then, I'll just be here pouring my own heart and experiences into your arms because this is the best I can do.