Heartbreak can be a very complicated condition.
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,