Heartbreak can be a very complicated condition.

My grandfather passed away years ago, but this photo has also been an inspiration to me.

It’s in your mind, but it’s not. It’s emotional, but physical as well. It’s a figure of speech, yet you swear that at the moment something terrible happens in your life, a dull pain begins throbbing beneath your ribcage, leaving room for only oxygen build-up and tears.

At that moment, heartbreak becomes as real a disease as any other.

When I first wrote my piece, “I Remember,” I intended to reach those who had experienced heartbreak form a lover’s perspective. For those who had reached the final pages of their story-book, only to find that their fairytale was plagued with reality’s minion known as life.

Then I realized (with the help of dictionary.com): heartbreak is a synonym for grief. And grief, a word with less of a connotation for love, strikes people at every stage of their life.

A girl who’s lost a friend to cancer. A husband whose wife has battled with Diabetes for years. A family split a part because of domestic violence. The people who suffer every day because of everyday situations.

Heartbreak doesn’t have a formula. It just happens.

“I Remember,” is for those who had lost someone, anyone in any way, and later felt the need to give up. It’s a piece that focuses on a cliched phrase, often used in sappy love songs, but one that is held true nonetheless. Because sometimes a person can become your world. He or she becomes the place you feel most comfortable. He or she becomes the place you never want to leave.

This piece is a memorial for the people who inspired us, but left us all too soon.
A reminder that the world they gave us, and the world we live in, can still be one in the same.

Til then, live by your pen… & God Bless,

Abet Lardizabal