This Is How ‘True Love’ Falls Apart
Slowly, you stop keeping in touch. You stop telling him that you're dehydrated from crying too hard. You stop telling him to remember you. And little by little, month by month, your flame burns a bit less.
I used to think love was this incredible steel iron bond that could hold two people together. I thought it was bulletproof. But I have come to find that love is not unbreakable. It can be as a fragile as a flame, and can be blown out by just a tiny gust of wind. Love is a perfect, perfect mosaic full of promises, full of life and full of hope. But, it will shatter if one of you decides to drop it.
This is how love falls apart.
One day, you two talk about your plans together. He enthusiastically already buys decorations for the apartment. It’s a tapestry with little birds all over it. He got it because he knows you have a love affair with them. You tell him how amazing it will feel to finally sleep in the same bed as him and not have to worry about time changes and airport signs. You tell him how beautiful our little world will be. He tells you he hopes our future babies look more like you. And you are pink with happiness, and he is your shining sea that always washes over you so effortlessly.
Three years. Four months in between seeing him. Separation anxiety. Skype calls that last till 3 am. Tears. Scheduling of flights. Airport hugs. Airport kisses. Fingers intertwined. Everything is as it should be. Time to go now. Airport tears. Airport goodbyes. Depression.
One day, he forgets about the plans. He forgets about the airport hugs and how it lit up his heart. He decides to drop the glass mosaic. He decides to blow out the flame. He tells you he can’t do it anymore. It’s just too damn hard. But your flame is still lit. Your glass mosaic is still in tact. Your love is still bright. It’s still so fucking bright. So, what do you do? You beg him to remember about your first kiss together, and you beg him to love you. Because loving him is all you know how to do.
This is how love falls apart.
Slowly, you stop keeping in touch. You stop telling him that you’re dehydrated from crying too hard. You stop telling him to remember you. And little by little, month by month, your flame burns a bit less. Your glass mosaic has cracks in it. You have a day where you don’t think about him. And it’s the first time you’ve actually smiled in months. Slowly, the flame is gone and your perfect, perfect, mosaic full of promises, full of life, and full of hope is gone.
You are always going to have the burn mark from that little flame. And you’ll always have the scar from where the glass cut you as it dropped to the ground.
