Notes on Heartbreak

by Annie Lord

And as I doze off to sleep I think about how easy it is to enjoy life; all you have to do is walk out into it and it comes running with open arms to greet you.

Love isn’t like Aristophanes said in that Plato story, like two people searching for their other halves. In fact, his speech in The Symposium was likely a work of satire aimed at mocking the sentimental and slightly ridiculous myths Greeks wrote about the origins of humanity. Plato goes on to define love as something different entirely, a reaching-up away from this world and into the good and beautiful of another dimension.

I don’t agree with Plato’s definition of love and I no longer relate to Aristophanes’ version either. Love is nowhere near as inevitable as he makes out. It’s not the electric reaction when you meet someone. It’s not the 100 times you ring their phone when they’re out late. Or the way you press your nose into their pillow because it smells like them. It’s something you actively choose to do. Not an instinct, but something to nurture. It’s a verb, not a noun. It’s as difficult as a full-time job. It’s extending your world view to encompass theirs. It’s total generosity. It’s doing things even if they won’t notice them. It’s making a fucking massive deal about their birthday. It’s waiting before watching the next episode of something because you said you’d watch it together. It’s trying to be a better person all the time.

The closer you look at the memories the more they blur out, as if you’ve zoomed into a picture so much that all you see are the pixels.

‘All right,’ I say. ‘Love you, bye.’ You could just pretend not to have heard it but we both know that’s not going to happen. You laugh again in a deep, throaty way. Say: ‘Sorry, what was that?’ ‘Force of habit,’ I reply, sighing. I’m about to hang up when you say, ‘I love you too.’ ‘Don’t give me your sympathy.’ ‘No, like, not in that way, but I actually do.’ And it sounds weird, but I know exactly what you mean. It’s a love that doesn’t feel like it’s going to burn through my chest, or bring me to tears, send me to your door in the middle of the night. It’s a softer, mellow love that glows in my heart like a warm night light. It makes me proud of who you are now, proud of who I am. It doesn’t ask for anything in return, and it doesn’t ask for me to do anything to prove it. It’s the sun on the back of your neck, it’s the ocean lapping at my feet. ‘I love you,’ I say again, and I’m sure we will for the rest of our lives.