For anyone that knows the pain of a broken heart.

You meet for the first time after a few days of messaging back and forth. They look just like their profile photo, but a bit more magical. It’s a little awkward at first because you have a connection, but it so far exists only over the phone. But it doesn’t last long: you start to warm up and the conversation is as easy as it was while texting. Their eyes are a warm green.

You sit in the movie theatre thinking about how cheesy it is to see a movie on the first date, but whatever it’s The Shape of Water. The plot is a bit weird and the cinematography is fantastic, but you can’t quite focus because they’re right next to you. Inches away. You look down and your fingers are so close to touching, with your heart thundering in your chest. Quite nice cheekbones.

An electric shock radiates from the first touch. Goosebumps raise in tandem with the hairs on the back of your neck. Warmth. Excitement. Soft. Holy shit.

The first kiss is ten times that, easy. You can’t wait to see them again, your thoughts consumed by them. The shape of their nose. How one of their eyebrows curls up at the end. That imperceptibly crooked-toothed smile that only makes them more perfect. Is it infatuation? Is this just a fling? Probably, but you decide to enjoy it while it lasts.

Pretty soon they spend the night at your place. Fears, hopes and dreams. Laughter and flirting. Plans for the summer and early retirement. They model and you can see why. Video games and pizza. The sound of their heartbeat. The fragrance of their neck. You don’t want to fall asleep because you want to harvest every possible second of time with them, but you do anyway. Sweet dreams.

A light snore gently wakes you. Cascading lashes. Freckles you didn’t notice the night before. You grin like an idiot and think to yourself how you want to wake up to this every day.

The days fly by. With them, you feel as if a part of you that has long been missing has returned. You smile more. You tell them your insecurities and feel accepted. Relief. They whisper in your ear how much you mean to them. They have no idea how much they mean to you. Words can’t describe. Counting stars. Feeding the ducks behind your house. Shoplifting at Target. Lunch at the park. Candlelight and slow dancing to Louis Armstrong. Infatuation evolves.

Days turn into weeks. Weeks into months. They say it first while laying on top of you midafternoon. You’ve never said the words before. Not like this. Not to them. You lock eyes. Pools of green. You ask if they really mean it because those three words hold so much value to you. They mean it sincerely. You say it back knowing that you mean it, but you’re terrified.

Vulnerable and exposed, the box is open.

It’s perfect. Everything you are looking for. Friend, partner, lover. Bliss and ecstasy. Easy to sleep, easier to wake up. The days bleed into each other. Lots of photos. Friends are happy for you and parents approve. What more could you want?

Blindsided.

A phone call. They weren’t supposed to move to New York until September, but they got signed to their dream model agency and they’re moving in less than a month. They sound like they already made up their mind. You thought you were in this together. The words are cold and unfeeling. You’re not a crier, but you can’t help it. You don’t understand. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Please, don’t.

Shattered.

Broken.

Empty.

You can’t breathe through the sobs. Your mind is reeling. Pain, confusion, anger. So much sorrow. How could they treat you like this? You don’t deserve this. You thought you were loved. There must be further explanation. You don’t understand. You miss them, you want them, you need them. You get in bed and fall asleep crying. Alone. So very much alone.

The next day is unimaginable pain. The day after is even worse, if that’s possible. The person you want to talk to most about how you feel is gone. You know you should eat, but food doesn’t sustain you. Your friends ask what’s wrong because you look dead inside. You are dead inside. No smiles. No jokes today. Just pain. They took a piece of you when they ended the phone call. A piece you will never get back.

You can’t bring yourself to delete the photos even if everyone says you should. You tell your friends you will, but you know you won’t. How could you? Look at how happy you were, at how you felt in that moment. You save them on your flash drive. Hot, silent tears while folding laundry. Cringing when mentioning them now as your ex. Exhaustion.

It’s two weeks later. It still hurts, but more of a dull ache than a sharp sting. You miss them. You occasionally go through your photos and videos with them. You wish the best for them in their life. You hope New York is everything they want and that they are happy, even if you’re not in this moment. You know that you’re going to be okay. You are glad that you got the chance to be with someone so charismatic and full of life.

You still love them. A part of you knows you always will. Maybe one day you’ll see them again and the stars will align to reunite you. Just maybe.

In the meantime, it’s back to the real world.

Time to close the box.