Well, damn. Look at us now.
“Strangers with memories” or whatever dramatic quote we’ll retweet on Twitter.
I’ve had quite the lifetime of experiences with breakups: a total of four over six years. Still wondering if I’ll end up with an average of one breakup a year. Each of them was a different type of hurt, a different type of person, and a different version of love — if you could call it that.
For those lucky enough to have never experienced a breakup, they suck. They’re horrendous. You hear those classic last words or see those three little text bubbles, your aching heart sinks to the bottom of your toes, and before you know it, your life is fundamentally derailed from the course it was on previously.
I hate heartbreaks, but I don’t hate love. I haven’t yet become that Neuroscience concentrator who believes that love is only neurons firing in association with a person or feeling. I haven’t yet become a cynic who argues there’s no point to falling in love when it could all end in a matter of seconds, words, or texts.
Every time I’ve had to hear those relationship-ending words, I’ve had to ask myself: was it worth it? Was the breakup worth all the memories the two of you made together? Was it worth sharing each and every one of your dreams and goals with each other? Was all of it together, the euphoric relationship and the devastating breakup, the rise and the fall, the highs and the lows, worth it?
It was worth it.
Despite all the tears I shed, I wouldn’t have had this little ol’ heart of mine crushed any other way. My breakups made me into the person I am today.
My heartbreaks taught me how to handle the loss of a best friend. They taught me how to differentiate between being appreciated and being spared the bare minimum. They taught me that individual lives sometimes just don’t line up, no matter how hard you try to fit the puzzle pieces together.
Sometimes, I wish I could have just read the paragraph above and taken my word for it. I wish I could have known these lessons in advance — but I’m glad I learned it through you, all the girls I’ve loved before. I’m glad I had the chance to watch you sing at your recital. I’m glad we watched those hot air balloons in the sky. I’m glad I asked you out with no time left. I’m glad I cooked that fancy dinner with the cheesy music on just for you.
This Valentine’s Day, for the first time in a very long time, I won’t have a card, chocolates, or even roses to buy for that someone special in my life. And I’m okay with it. I’ll have the lessons you taught me to carry with me to make the day special.
So to all the girls who broke my heart:
I hope that you find someone closer to home who can see you any day of the week and give you a rose on each one of those days.
I hope that you find what truly makes you happy.
I hope that you find that adventure in Italy, Greece, France, or Mars.
I hope that you find someone that completes your puzzle, even if that somebody isn’t me.
But most importantly, I hope that you all have a wonderful Valentine’s Day without me.
And to all the future girls that may or may not break my heart: let me down easy. It’s Valentine’s Day, after all.
Your ex- (or future) Valentine,
Markus I. Anzaldua-Campos ’24, a Crimson Editorial editor, is a Neuroscience concentrator in Kirkland House.