How It Feels To Be The Heartbreaker And Not The Heartbroken
I have been on the other side of heartbreak before: the side with the endless amount of tears, the loss of identity and the overwhelming, hovering grief. I was the person who wept at commercials because I was reminded of the pet names he used to call me and ran to the bathroom in hysterics because the songs he knew on guitar came on over the radio. I have been the queen of heartbreak, embodying every rom-com, seventeen magazine, broken girl stereotype under the sun. I know this side of heartbreak all too well; it is familiar to me and as miserable as this may sound, I am most comfortable on this side.
But to break your heart… that is brand new territory for me. These waters are deep and un-tested. I have never occupied the empty space in someone’s heart before. This heavy aching in your chest is my fault. This perpetual frown on your face is because of me. This hole in your heart bleeds and oozes because my trembling hands were the ones to pull the trigger.
I know how it feels to be you. That’s what makes this so difficult, knowing exactly how you’re feeling yet having to break your heart anyway. There’s nothing I can say to lessen the pain because I am 100% accountable for every sting you have experienced.
I can’t focus when I’m around you. Your inner thoughts ricochet off the walls of my mind and all I can think about is your broken soul. I follow your eyes around the room, in hopes I’ll be lucky enough to catch your gaze. Maybe if you look into my eyes you’ll understand how much it hurts me to hurt you. I look for eye contact because maybe if you see the way my sinking eyes are tired from the sleepless nights I spent thinking about the tattered pieces of your heart, you’d comprehend how utterly devastated I am to be damaging you.
Breaking your heart is earthshattering; it is something I never intended to do. It happened so innocently. Breaking a heart sneaks up on you, when you least expect things to not work out, they end. All the time and energy you spent on the feelings that you once harvested, or tried to harvest, for that person slowly dissipate and all that is left is the sorry excuse you have to tell them as to why you’re killing their confidence.
I want you to know that I cry about this. I want you to know that I do not take hurting you lightly; I think about it day and night, wishing there was some way that I could help you heal, but I know that I am the last person you need to repair what has been broken. I want you to know how grateful I am to know that someone who I hold at such a high regard loves me the way that you do.
Forcing these feelings is something that would be toxic for you and I. Deep down, you know this to be true. I wish your heart wasn’t in pieces right now, but you just can’t love someone who is still broken. Heartbreak purgatory is a confusing place to dwell, but I think it’s where I need to be right now.
So while I am here, in the midst of this beautiful disaster, please go out and find what you’re looking for. You would be doing yourself, as well as a very lucky girl, a great injustice if you didn’t. But please always remember, it kills me to hurt you. I do not feel quite as deeply as you do right now, but breaking your heart is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. And I mean that. 
