The intensity of your love defines the intensity of your heartbreak. The deeper your love, the more unfathomable is your heartbreak. The shallower your love, the more fleeting your heartbreak is.

Perhaps, my love was far too deep. If not, why would I take forever to recover from our abrupt end? Why would I take forever to move on? Why would I take this long to be the person I knew I was supposed to be in the real world? How would I even know my love was deep when, in fact, I wasn’t even there? All there was is the love itself. I was the love. Yes, I was love itself.

A heart breaks when your grand expectation from someone seems impossible to be met. A heart breaks when the utopian universe inside your head starts collapsing before it even sees the light of the day. A heart breaks when you surrender your soul to someone who is utterly soulless. A heart breaks when your heart starts beating more for someone else, and less for yourself. A heart breaks when you start thinking and feeling more for someone else, and less for yourself.

A heart breaks when you handcuff yourself to your love, kneel down before your beloved and surrender yourself completely only to become disregarded. A heart breaks when your own existence escapes your memory. 

A heart breaks not because it is fragile, but because you have been clumsy with it. I have been clumsy, very clumsy.

For the first time in my life, I had developed genuine feelings for somebody. For the first time in my life, I was experiencing the joy of being and sharing my life with someone.  For the first time in my life, I felt like if there was someone at all for me out there, it had to be her and nobody else. 

What I felt for her was profound and real. I felt every bit of it as much as the hunger that stings my stomach and as much as the anger that blinds me. Yes, it was that real and strong. I know how genuine it was. Only I know how real those tears really were and how sweet that smile really was.

But, maybe she could never see the authenticity in my love. Perhaps, she also thought of me as someone fake. 

It kills you when your unconditional love is unappreciated. It maddens you when your utmost care goes unacknowledged. It suffocates you when your admiration is mocked. It hurts you when you become a clown in the most beautiful pair of eyes you have ever seen. 

And it’s all real, every bit of pain. It is as real as the air you are breathing now.

Every winter, as I soak in the snow standing in the middle of a street, hands spread wide open, head bent backward and my two little teary eyes looking into the sky, I think of her. I let her memory envelop me. Every single snow flake reminds me of her.

 Even when I try to shake off the snow, there never is enough energy in my body. It just seems to escape me. As I get home, fully covered in snow, I can’t help but collapse on my bed. The snow leaves my clothes to melt on the sheets, soaking it in all its glory. I feel like I am laying on a pond, perhaps drowning in one. It is then that I start bawling like a baby. Why should the snow melt into water? Why should anything leave its state of being to become something else?  Why did love leave me so soon?

She loved snow. She loved watching snowfall from her balcony. She loved the sound of silence as the entire city quietly snuggled under a blanket of snow. She knew that it was a myth that no two snowflakes are exactly the same. She pretended that she knew all the hundred names that Eskimos had for snow.

She loved snow, just like I did. She knew of snow, as much as I did. It was the snow that brought us together. Our mutual fondness for it invoked conversations and sparked an untold chemistry between us. It was because of the snow that we started opening up to each other, little by little. 

Yes, it is strange, but aren’t all the beautiful things? 

When you heart breaks, your ego bruises too. What if my ego is steering my heart, telling it how to feel? What if it is not the heart, but the ego? What if it is not love, but my pride that has been torn apart? 

If I tackle this mindfully, love shouldn’t be so hard. Maybe there is no such this as a heart break. Hearts never break. Hearts don’t hurt. Hearts function perfectly until they stop functioning altogether. Perhaps, when we talk of heartbreak we are talking of our imagination not taking shape. May be when we talk about heartbreak, we are talking of our subtle agendas regarding somebody not being met. Perhaps we are talking about the sudden collapse of our countless expectations and our incapability of loving ourselves in the first place. 

Heartbreak has nothing to do with the heart or with love. Maybe even when we can’t control how we love, we can decide how we feel about heartbreak.  Love is inevitable, heart break is optional. 

So what should I do now, who should I blame? 

It looks like with my heart still intact, heartbreak is just a notion I invented—an emotional play maybe? Is this heartbreak just another excuse to escape from the now, from the reality? Is it my way of justifying why I have failed to love myself in the first place? Is it my way of feeding my ego-telling myself nobody will ever love her like I did? 

I have been thinking how she doesn’t deserve my love; is this tool of superiority complex? Am I trying to prove something here? Am I demanding more than I should here? Should I demand or prove something at all? Do I really need to claim that I love someone; do I really need to seek for credit? Can’t I just love-without any anticipation or greed? The answer escapes me.

Once upon a time, on a beautiful evening I remember saying to her: “You are the wind that blows my mind and the silence that soothes my heart. You are the beauty that blinds my eyes and the beast that scares my soul. You are the root that grows underground and the branch that grows towards the sky. You are the question I ask and the answer I find. You are the chaos to my thoughts and the order of my heartbeats. You are the yin and you are the yang. You are the contradiction that confuses me, and the ultimate truth that relieves me. That is why you are so beautiful, so intriguing.”

What happened to that statement and all those words? Did I even mean every single thing? Could they have been as meaningless and as empty as I feel right now? Perhaps, she understood it long before I did.

Come to think of it, she loved herself more than anyone else. She was so much in love with herself that my so-called unconditional love didn’t amount to anything. She knew how to live every single moment of her life and on her own to the fullest. She was a free soul who didn’t entertain any kind of entanglement. She was a rebel who questioned everything and enjoyed basking in the glory of life’s mysteries. She was someone who dared to be naïve and perhaps just herself. She was someone who could maintain her curiosity passionately.

That’s the reason why her eyes always twinkled. She was utterly blissful in her own being. She was a peaceful soul.

That’s the reason why everyone around her experienced peace. She was always joyful and that is why being around her was so intoxicating.

She was a dream that you wanted to hold on to. That’s why I loved her, and that’s why I lost her. 

I remember how she always pushed me to love myself first, when all I wanted to do was love her. Maybe she waited for me to love myself while I thought I could only do so if she loved me back. 

The power of your ego defines the intensity of your heartbreak. The deeper your ego, the more unfathomable is your heartbreak. The shallower your ego, the more fleeting your heartbreak is. 

Look! It’s snowing again.