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Valentine’s Day season is upon us, and with it comes a slew of paper hearts, cheesy pick-up lines, and windowsill roses. For Josh, our favorite perpetually confused eternal freshman, who is processing the end of a relationship this February, the red and pink cheer only serves as a reminder of all that’s been lost. So, FM asked some of our writers: what would you tell a heartbroken Josh?
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Remember that healing does not take a specific form or follow a specific timeline. Allow yourself the space to grieve, to reminisce, to fume; to cry, to laugh, to vent; in short, to feel. Allow the unpredictable waves of despair and bitterness to wash over you, knowing that what comes up must come down, knowing that you will not drown, knowing that, with time, the tides will cease. And above all, surround yourself with those who love you, with sunsets and fresh air, with art and movement, with what brings you joy and makes you feel cared for and alive. Love is abundant and constant; you just have to know where to look.
— Magazine Editor-at-Large Kaitlyn Tsai can be reached at kaitlyn.tsai@thecrimson.com. Follow her on Twitter @kaitlyntsaiii.
Listen to “Hard Drive” by Cassandra Jenkins on loop. It’s better than therapy.
— Magazine Chair Amber H. Levis can be reached at amber.levis@thecrimson.com. Follow her on Twitter @amberlevis.
Cry it out. Curl up in a ball on the floor. Let it break you down until you don’t know if you’ll ever feel okay again. Then once you’re done, pack it up. You’ve got a discussion post due at 11:59 p.m.
— Associate Magazine Editor Jem K. Williams can be reached at jem.williams@thecrimson.com. Follow her on Twitter @jemkwilliams.
You will try everything. You’ll aggressively work out to an angry playlist, you’ll accidentally go off the grid for a few days, you’ll cry in front of people you don’t want to cry around, you’ll send stupid texts and make bad decisions and start wondering how long this will take. None of it will feel as satisfying as you want it to. The thing is, you won’t quite see the end coming until it does. One day, you’ll find that you’ve gone an hour without thinking of them. Soon, a couple hours, a full day, a few. And it’ll feel a little surprising and a little strange and a little new. A little like something good, finally. A little like a beginning.
— Magazine Editor-at-Large Michal Goldstein can be reached at michal.goldstein@thecrimson.com. Follow her on Twitter @bymgoldstein.
Essentially every other shop in the Square sells dessert. And you should absolutely abuse this!
— Associate Magazine Editor Mila G. Barry can be reached at mila.barry@thecrimson.com.
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I hear you’re heartbroken,
So here’s what to do:
Write tons of poems,
Get your feelings out.
Write about anger and sadness
And lingering doubts.
Your poetry might be great,
Maybe you’ll win a prize.
But it’ll probably be terrible
Yet writing is still wise…
A few months from now,
You’ll look back at your works,
cringe, realize you’ve moved on,
And that single life has its perks!
— Magazine Chair Io Y. Gilman can be reached at io.gilman@thecrimson.com.
It’s not you, it’s me. I really just need to work on myself. You deserve someone better than me. I love you, I’m just not in love with you. Sir, please get out of my house. I’m calling the police.
If you’ve been on the receiving end of any one of these breakup cliches, I feel you, but there's really only one option when your significant other inevitably leaves you high and dry: go on a spiritually transformative tour of Asia and rid yourself of worldly attachments. Your passport is no exception.
Sending love from a jail cell in Osaka.
— Associate Magazine Editor Sammy Duggasani can be reached at sammy@thecrimson.com. Follow him on Twitter @sammyduggasani.
One day, you’ll be sitting across from Mama at a ramen restaurant bawling your eyes out, and you’ll realize the one thing you miss more than living across from a playground is how she used to tuck your mittens into your winter coat, to keep the snow from getting inside your sleeves, to keep you warm. There is so much out there trying to make us cold. Don’t let this be another.
— Associate Magazine Editor Dina R. Zeldin can be reached at dina.zeldin@thecrimson.com.
