Love is something a lot of people hope for, and strive to share with others than those that they're born to.

With love, lots may accompany it: hate, distrust, and most of all, heart break.

I never truly believed in broken hearts, until I had my first experience with one as of late. Let me tell you, it sucked. Preferably, I would never like to go through it again, but ironically, that's not how the world nor how life works.

I was in a great relationship. We planned out our life together and shared things with one another that we hadn't with anyone else over the course of a year and then some.

Then, a mistake took its course. A mistake that I couldn't possibly explain or even make coherent in my own mind. I wish I could take it back, but it wasn't something we could get through. We tried to make it work, but through a short span, or more so a whirlwind of emotions, distrust, and deep sorrow, what we had dissipated into the past, and our future together was no longer a possibility. Distraught and confused, I began to blame myself, but also my ex. I didn't understand why he was giving up on me, but to him, I had given up on our relationship due to the action related to my mistake. I pondered this, and wondered why I did it. Still nothing. I felt so awfully about what I had done and was nothing but sorry and regretful of my decision, and still he couldn't forgive me, nor could see the future that we had planned together.

Next came the heartbreak.

I felt like our great relationship was thrown away over such a silly thing and that I wasn't the one who gave up. I had given every ounce of my being into making the relationship work to the point of becoming ill. Eventually this led me to stop giving space. I wasn't able to give our relationship the space or time that it needed to mend. Perhaps if I had we would still be together, or still trying to pick up the pieces of our relationship that I let crash to the ground.

Then, it hit me.

I made a decision that led to an act of distrust no matter how small. I hurt him. I hurt myself. I hurt our relationship that rarely had issues. Whether he wanted to be with me or not, that was up to him, but what really mattered to me was his forgiveness. While I had come to forgive myself, I knew moving on would be much easier if I was forgiven by him.

No matter what, I knew the breakup had transpired because of my actions. While accepting that was hard, it was necessary.

Unfortunately, breakups are a potential consequence of relationships, and unfortunately, so are heartbreaks.

Now, I'm alone. I'm alone in a sense of being in love, but not love as a whole. As my heart has come to begin mending itself, I've had this sort of epiphany that while I'm no longer in a relationship, I'm not alone. I have friends and family who have been absolutely relentless in giving me hope, faith, and most importantly for me, forgiveness. While I wish the events that took course wouldn't have taken place the way that they did, nothing can change the fact that they happened.

As for now, I'm still in my boat. I'm still going the same direction I was, but I've lost some weight from that boat. The last couple weeks I've watched that weight that kept my boat afloat for the last year get into his own boat and head another direction. All I can hope for is that he will keep going where he is meant to be, and while he does, that he is as happy as he can ever be.

Heartbreaks are awful. But my first one has taught me a lot.

Realize your wrongs. Realize how to fix them, and no matter what, follow through with the solutions you have set forth for yourself.

Realize that no matter what, you can mend the holes in your boat and you can keep paddling.

Make the most out of your heartbreaks, and when they're over, realize they can always be mended.