One day I was scrolling through my Facebook news feed to more or less catch up on my ever coveted gossip. That standard school in which we all engage, although none of us will ever admit it. Who would want to come clean about craving to know what popular girl got fat, who's pregnant, engaged, or married? Who died, graduated college or gone on welfare? These are all things that no grown up in their right mind would willingly admit to being interested in. Seeking pleasure in such tiny casualties and partaking in such alleged gossip isn't attractive so who would actually own up to partaking in it?
But let's be real: We all follow Perez Hilton on Twitter, we all heed Dr. Phil's relationship advice, we all stalk the shit out of people on Facebook and we all definitely DVR'ed that episode of Oprah's Next Chapter where she interview Lindsay Lohan. (More accurately, Dina Lohan and I may have been the only viewer. Regrettably, I'm Team LiLo. I have this thing for train wrecks.)
But on this one day in particular, my favorite social networking system was short on gossip. There were no Instagrammed pregnancy tests or classy mugshots. (I don't understand that, by the way. How is it that people look that good in their mugshots while I'm over here trying to keep my eyes open during the flash when I'm stone sober?) Anyway, on this day, there was one status posted by someone I once road the bus with when I was but a chubby preteen. It said simply, "I don't know which is worse: to be the heart breaker or the heartbroken."
It could just be the stubborn hopeless romantic shoved deep down there in my black, bitter heart but such a pensive, heart wrenching, soul searching, gut aching formulation of words made me stop for half a second. I reread the words and remembered that this was once a girl whose waist line I pined for. A teenage girl who dressed like Rachel Green, cussed like a sailor and was popular like Kourtney Kardashian, primarily because we all wanted to be her. And all the boys wanted to be inside of her. An obvious band geek like me could learn a lot from her dangerously low low rise jeans and can do attitude.
Let me tell you a secret: To THIS DAY, those girls make me nervous. The ones that are 14 going on 25? They make me feel insecure and disgusting. Like I should probably run on the PreCor until I faint. Or at least until I look like Christina Ricci. Because in this life, being intelligent, an alleged closet genius and a lover of Ray Charles very obviously gets you nowhere.
But it's a good question, the one she raised. Which is worse? The heartbreak endured or the actual act of breaking it?
The heart was made to be broken. -Oscar Wilde
Realistically, heartbreak isn't something that is easily escapable. And even more realistically, sometimes it seems like heartbreak is something that can occur over and over again. And the threshold for desolation is remarkably sensitive. Have you ever seen that Sarah McLachan commercial where "Angel" comes on and there's all those emaciated animals? Jesus Christ, friends. After that commercial I need to be checked into the Harbor because if I had the capacity to be depressed, it would be at that exact moment.
But seriously, heartbreak and such emotional misery are things that exist within all of us, whether or not we choose to admit it. (And also, even more seriously, if you abuse your animals, I swear to God, I will come to your house and pour Drano in your milk carton. Not joking. I will go Visceglie on your ass.) For some people, love is like walking through a frozen tundra. Love is this big, romantic, dramatic opera and when it ends, when you're left with your heart broken and your mind a jumbled mess, what happens? How are you supposed to just keep going through life with this blatant broken heart?
One of the worst feelings in the world is watching someone walk away after they've left you. Watching the distance between you grow larger until there is nothing left but empty space. It's just you, your broken spirit and your lacking confidence.
I remember a story from way back about a girl, we'll call her Tessa, who had this sneaking suspicion that her boyfriend was being unfaithful to her. Obviously, it was a woman's intuition and she didn't have any cold, hard evidence but the inkling was there. So she went to the restaurant that he claimed he was going to with his work friends, let herself in and caught him. It was just as she had suspected, despite how much she hated to admit it. He was a lying, cheating, bat shit insane manipulator who could get anyone to believe anything. And there he sat, pompous and confident, eating steak and potatoes with the girl he was cheating with, as well as about six of Tessa's friends.
He had fooled everybody into believing his behavior wasn't deceptive. Maybe for some of them, it was a selective blindness. They didn't want to get involved in business that wasn't theirs, perhaps? Or it could be that they were preoccupied with their own lives to give it a second thought. But regardless of their reasons, they all knew what was really going on. And they all stayed out of it. But I suppose the first loyalty is always to the guys, right...?
And that night, they all sat there and stared out the window while he screamed at Tessa, cursed at her and claimed she was crazy, that she was stalking him and embarrassing him. It was New Year's Eve and that night, she shivered as she watched him walk away, back to his table of friends and food, until there was nothing left but empty space between them.
Once you had put the pieces back together, even though you may look intact, you were never quite the same as you'd been before the fall. -Jodi Picoult
But although being heartbroken is a tragic ordeal, a dreadful feeling that you would never want to intentionally bestow upon anyone, what about those people performing the heartbreak? Are the ones committing the crime sitting at home listening to Bill Withers and Al Green because they're hurting just as much? I mean, realistically, just because you're the one who did the dumping or the cheating doesn't mean you don't feel awful about it. And while it might seem terribly self-righteous, sometimes it's a worse feeling to be the one who hurt a person you're supposed to love and care about. Guilt can be a very painful and consuming emotion. Alcohol helps. (And Count Basie has always been a suitable pick me up for yours truly.)
I mean, it sounds very silver screen and I know that I incessantly use musical references, but it's like the secret love affair between Etta James and Leonard Chess. Of course, it's no longer a secret thanks to Beyonce and Adrian Brody (best movie ever, by the way), but the point is that Leonard Chess was married. To an Italian immigrant. Obviously we'll never know what their marriage was really like behind closed doors because with these things, we never do.
But Leonard and Etta shared a fondness, a bond that brought them together through music. For whatever reason, for the sake of his family or perhaps for the life of Chess Records, Leonard walked away from her. From the alleged love they shared, from the music they made together, and the business he built with his own two hands. And this decision literally killed him. His Cadillac didn't even make it half a block.
When I sit alone with a glass of whiskey and Pandora on the television, I always get a little puffy eyed and weepy when "I'd Rather Go Blind" comes on. I can't help but wonder if it was written with whatever existed between them in mind. I'm serious, friends. Listen to that song and tell me you can't feel the heartbreak in her voice. And imagine being the man who put it there. I'm really undecided on which is a worse feeling to possess...
Moral of the Crazy: To be honest, although I've never officially posted it into a question until now, I've often wondered which position is worse: the heart breaker or the heartbroken. I've often heard people say things like, "He hurt me," or, "She cheated on me," and I get it, friends.
Betrayal of any brand is a terrible feeling. People who are supposed to be your mate, love you endlessly and protect you are capable of doing deceitful things to you because let's be real, we are only human. Life isn't an episode of Bob's Burgers. Sometimes things just happen and it hurts. And how horrible is it to wrap your brain around the realization that the person who hurt you is the one who is supposed to love you unconditionally? No matter fucking what.
So standing in front of you is a person you thought you knew, a person you assumed would never hurt you. And they've committed the most unspeakable of acts: they've broken your heart.
But where does that leave the heart breakers? Presumably, they can't be ailing, right? They couldn't possibly be reeling from the damage they've so obviously caused, could they? I supposed that given my major, I work really hard at understanding people. I just don't believe that people lay around and dream of ways to destroy their relationships, destroy their lives. Maybe sometimes, things just go wrong.
Don't think that just because I've lived a life of bad decisions that I'm defending these unruly heart breakers. I just have a hard time seeing things so black and white. And for the most part, I don't believe that people just commit atrocities with such a blase mentality. I mean, people don't just run around and say, "Welp, I cheated on my old lady just now. She's gonna be pissed..." Most fully functioning adults feel remorseful and guilty. They're hurting just as much as the innocents they betrayed. And what's worse is they know that they're the ones responsible. So they only have themselves to blame.
To be frank, I'm still on the fence about which is worse. I just know there's more than enough heartache to go around.
Oh, I wouldn't mind, Hazel Grace. It would be a privilege to have my heart broken by you. -John Green
But let's be real: We all follow Perez Hilton on Twitter, we all heed Dr. Phil's relationship advice, we all stalk the shit out of people on Facebook and we all definitely DVR'ed that episode of Oprah's Next Chapter where she interview Lindsay Lohan. (More accurately, Dina Lohan and I may have been the only viewer. Regrettably, I'm Team LiLo. I have this thing for train wrecks.)
But on this one day in particular, my favorite social networking system was short on gossip. There were no Instagrammed pregnancy tests or classy mugshots. (I don't understand that, by the way. How is it that people look that good in their mugshots while I'm over here trying to keep my eyes open during the flash when I'm stone sober?) Anyway, on this day, there was one status posted by someone I once road the bus with when I was but a chubby preteen. It said simply, "I don't know which is worse: to be the heart breaker or the heartbroken."
It could just be the stubborn hopeless romantic shoved deep down there in my black, bitter heart but such a pensive, heart wrenching, soul searching, gut aching formulation of words made me stop for half a second. I reread the words and remembered that this was once a girl whose waist line I pined for. A teenage girl who dressed like Rachel Green, cussed like a sailor and was popular like Kourtney Kardashian, primarily because we all wanted to be her. And all the boys wanted to be inside of her. An obvious band geek like me could learn a lot from her dangerously low low rise jeans and can do attitude.
Let me tell you a secret: To THIS DAY, those girls make me nervous. The ones that are 14 going on 25? They make me feel insecure and disgusting. Like I should probably run on the PreCor until I faint. Or at least until I look like Christina Ricci. Because in this life, being intelligent, an alleged closet genius and a lover of Ray Charles very obviously gets you nowhere.
But it's a good question, the one she raised. Which is worse? The heartbreak endured or the actual act of breaking it?
The heart was made to be broken. -Oscar Wilde
Realistically, heartbreak isn't something that is easily escapable. And even more realistically, sometimes it seems like heartbreak is something that can occur over and over again. And the threshold for desolation is remarkably sensitive. Have you ever seen that Sarah McLachan commercial where "Angel" comes on and there's all those emaciated animals? Jesus Christ, friends. After that commercial I need to be checked into the Harbor because if I had the capacity to be depressed, it would be at that exact moment.
But seriously, heartbreak and such emotional misery are things that exist within all of us, whether or not we choose to admit it. (And also, even more seriously, if you abuse your animals, I swear to God, I will come to your house and pour Drano in your milk carton. Not joking. I will go Visceglie on your ass.) For some people, love is like walking through a frozen tundra. Love is this big, romantic, dramatic opera and when it ends, when you're left with your heart broken and your mind a jumbled mess, what happens? How are you supposed to just keep going through life with this blatant broken heart?
One of the worst feelings in the world is watching someone walk away after they've left you. Watching the distance between you grow larger until there is nothing left but empty space. It's just you, your broken spirit and your lacking confidence.
I remember a story from way back about a girl, we'll call her Tessa, who had this sneaking suspicion that her boyfriend was being unfaithful to her. Obviously, it was a woman's intuition and she didn't have any cold, hard evidence but the inkling was there. So she went to the restaurant that he claimed he was going to with his work friends, let herself in and caught him. It was just as she had suspected, despite how much she hated to admit it. He was a lying, cheating, bat shit insane manipulator who could get anyone to believe anything. And there he sat, pompous and confident, eating steak and potatoes with the girl he was cheating with, as well as about six of Tessa's friends.
He had fooled everybody into believing his behavior wasn't deceptive. Maybe for some of them, it was a selective blindness. They didn't want to get involved in business that wasn't theirs, perhaps? Or it could be that they were preoccupied with their own lives to give it a second thought. But regardless of their reasons, they all knew what was really going on. And they all stayed out of it. But I suppose the first loyalty is always to the guys, right...?
And that night, they all sat there and stared out the window while he screamed at Tessa, cursed at her and claimed she was crazy, that she was stalking him and embarrassing him. It was New Year's Eve and that night, she shivered as she watched him walk away, back to his table of friends and food, until there was nothing left but empty space between them.
Once you had put the pieces back together, even though you may look intact, you were never quite the same as you'd been before the fall. -Jodi Picoult
But although being heartbroken is a tragic ordeal, a dreadful feeling that you would never want to intentionally bestow upon anyone, what about those people performing the heartbreak? Are the ones committing the crime sitting at home listening to Bill Withers and Al Green because they're hurting just as much? I mean, realistically, just because you're the one who did the dumping or the cheating doesn't mean you don't feel awful about it. And while it might seem terribly self-righteous, sometimes it's a worse feeling to be the one who hurt a person you're supposed to love and care about. Guilt can be a very painful and consuming emotion. Alcohol helps. (And Count Basie has always been a suitable pick me up for yours truly.)
I mean, it sounds very silver screen and I know that I incessantly use musical references, but it's like the secret love affair between Etta James and Leonard Chess. Of course, it's no longer a secret thanks to Beyonce and Adrian Brody (best movie ever, by the way), but the point is that Leonard Chess was married. To an Italian immigrant. Obviously we'll never know what their marriage was really like behind closed doors because with these things, we never do.
But Leonard and Etta shared a fondness, a bond that brought them together through music. For whatever reason, for the sake of his family or perhaps for the life of Chess Records, Leonard walked away from her. From the alleged love they shared, from the music they made together, and the business he built with his own two hands. And this decision literally killed him. His Cadillac didn't even make it half a block.
When I sit alone with a glass of whiskey and Pandora on the television, I always get a little puffy eyed and weepy when "I'd Rather Go Blind" comes on. I can't help but wonder if it was written with whatever existed between them in mind. I'm serious, friends. Listen to that song and tell me you can't feel the heartbreak in her voice. And imagine being the man who put it there. I'm really undecided on which is a worse feeling to possess...
Moral of the Crazy: To be honest, although I've never officially posted it into a question until now, I've often wondered which position is worse: the heart breaker or the heartbroken. I've often heard people say things like, "He hurt me," or, "She cheated on me," and I get it, friends.
Betrayal of any brand is a terrible feeling. People who are supposed to be your mate, love you endlessly and protect you are capable of doing deceitful things to you because let's be real, we are only human. Life isn't an episode of Bob's Burgers. Sometimes things just happen and it hurts. And how horrible is it to wrap your brain around the realization that the person who hurt you is the one who is supposed to love you unconditionally? No matter fucking what.
So standing in front of you is a person you thought you knew, a person you assumed would never hurt you. And they've committed the most unspeakable of acts: they've broken your heart.
But where does that leave the heart breakers? Presumably, they can't be ailing, right? They couldn't possibly be reeling from the damage they've so obviously caused, could they? I supposed that given my major, I work really hard at understanding people. I just don't believe that people lay around and dream of ways to destroy their relationships, destroy their lives. Maybe sometimes, things just go wrong.
Don't think that just because I've lived a life of bad decisions that I'm defending these unruly heart breakers. I just have a hard time seeing things so black and white. And for the most part, I don't believe that people just commit atrocities with such a blase mentality. I mean, people don't just run around and say, "Welp, I cheated on my old lady just now. She's gonna be pissed..." Most fully functioning adults feel remorseful and guilty. They're hurting just as much as the innocents they betrayed. And what's worse is they know that they're the ones responsible. So they only have themselves to blame.
To be frank, I'm still on the fence about which is worse. I just know there's more than enough heartache to go around.
Oh, I wouldn't mind, Hazel Grace. It would be a privilege to have my heart broken by you. -John Green
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