If there's one thing I have learned through the trials and tribulations of love, it's that the truth about breakups is they never just happen once. It happens over and over with each passing day, and the initial goodbye is far easier than all the ones to follow.
It happens when your song comes on in the car, but now, rather than turning the volume up to sing along, you skip it completely because now you're singing alone and it just doesn't sound the same.
It happens when you change his name in your phone, from one followed by cheesy emojis that made you smile every time it made an appearance on your screen, to simply his first and last name as if he's some sort of stranger.
It happens when it's no longer his face as the wallpaper on your phone because looking at the photos of what used to be is just too much for you to stomach anymore.
It happens when you get home from a long day and automatically reach for his sweatpants because they're the comfiest and have, unfortunately, become your favorite.
It happens when you drive by the spots you used to go together, cringing at the flashbacks of laughter, kisses and inside jokes that took place there.
It happens when you've kept it together for too long, pretending like your thoughts aren't scrambled, and you finally take the time to weep in the shower where your tears can be unquestioned, unrestrained and indistinguishable from the steaming hot water.
It happens until you've exhausted every season of the year, since every transition reminds you of yet another period that he spent by your side for whatever given situation-- that first spring kiss, the summer adventures, the fall dates, and those winter cuddle sessions-- taking place at that given time.
It's the daily reminders that litter every waking moment. Especially when you least expect nor want them. It's the nightmares to follow when you try to sleep them away, even though these bad dreams are in a different form than most; the worst of them seem to, ironically, come in the form of the sweetest memories filled with love, only to end abruptly upon awakening and exposing them as the simply disintegrating reality generated from an unconscious cerebral illusion.
There's no denying that the separation begins with an aching in your chest that you are convinced will never go away, but don't give up hope. Eventually, you'll be able to inhale and exhale normally once again, just as you did for the days, months and years prior to him taking your breath away with that smile.
Eventually, you'll be able to listen to the song because you like it for your own purposes, rather than associating it with him, and you'll blare it even louder.
Eventually, you won't feel sick seeing his name or his face, so you won't have to tiptoe around just to avoid the sight of either of them.
Eventually, you'll weed out his clothes, eliminating the objects triggering the sadness from your closet, one article at a time.
Eventually, you'll have the courage to go to those spots you once imprinted as belonging to you both, replacing the memories made with him with new ones, overwriting them and reclaiming them as your own.
Eventually, the shower will be a place for rejuvenation and clearing of your mind rather than the center of rumination and restless thoughts begging "why" and "what if."
Eventually, although having to endure reminiscing through each season seems extensive, I promise replacing the "this time last year" feelings with new people and escapades to take the place of the past will give you a sense of relief—so be patient.
The truth about breakups is that they are absolutely painful, but eventually, you will be okay.
The truth about breakups is that somehow there is a silver lining, a lesson learned and a point in time that you don't have to feel ashamed of cherishing even after it ends. Stop being mad at yourself for once being vulnerable, in love and wholeheartedly, unrestrictedly happy.
Most importantly, the truth about breakups is that they are comparable to watching the sunset in a rear view mirror. Even though it's behind you, it doesn't make it any less beautiful.
