It’s a Thursday night, around 4:30 p.m. I’m sitting at my desk and my girlfriend is on my bed. 

The windows of my apartment, two stories above a four-way intersection, are not insulated. Our words are partially drowned out by the persistent hum of cars. 

I can tell something is off: my girlfriend’s demeanor is unusual, less expressive and emotional than the girl I’ve known for a year and a half. 

But there is a sense of safety in the fact that I am wearing the matching pajamas we got together for Christmas. Surely, she wouldn’t end things with me in these circumstances. 

However, life is unfair, unpredictable and unmanageable at times.  

To my chagrin, there it was — the breakup. Reason: unexplained, but hints towards irreparable incompatibility and something about my survival instincts being too strong, whatever that means. 

My now ex-girlfriend — let’s call her “Bird” — was my first love. This was the first time I truly understood how intoxicating love can be.  

I’ve spent the past few days in shambles, calling my mom every two hours in tears, trying to swallow all of the words I wish I could say to Bird, knowing she either doesn’t want to hear them or I’ll just never get the chance to say them.

I’ve never experienced true heartbreak, but it fits all the stereotypes. I’m undecided on whether that’s more comforting or infuriatingly invalidating. 

The worst part of it all is the fear: the fear of what my future will be, how I’ll spend my time, who I’ll share my love with and wondering when I’ll be okay. 

I’m also not sure what to do with the memories, the pictures or the non-refundable plane ticket I have to go visit her mom for spring break. I’ll deal with that tomorrow. 

All I know is that I feel irreversibly broken and that I’ve felt this way before in other ways. There’s comfort in knowing that I have picked myself up from worse. 

I could never be angry with Bird. Upset and disappointed, sure, but I have no anger toward her. I wish I did — it would make this whole breakup thing a lot easier.

I yearn for a laundry list of reasons why she doesn’t deserve me, but there is no such thing. 

Although the loss of companionship is at the forefront of my mind right now, I’m beginning to see things I was blind to while in the relationship.

I can see that I wasn’t 100% happy. There are things I would have changed. There are things I accepted over time out of desperation. 

I often felt like I was too much. My needs were unreasonable, my decisiveness a flaw. But I realize now that my needs weren’t too much, and I wasn’t too decisive; it just felt that way in comparison. 

My ability to express my needs assertively was seen as a threat rather than an open line of communication. I may need to soften my edges sometimes, but I don’t deserve to feel the need to apologize for knowing who I am. 

I’ve spent many painful years developing my strong sense of self, and I will never again let someone question me about it. 

Towards the end, I grew weary. I yearned for Bird to understand how to care for me without instructions, to think of me without asking. It feels good not to have to explain myself anymore. I have the freedom to be around people who understand me the first time I show myself to them. 

I’d like to think neither of us has regrets. I don’t know if I was expecting forever with Bird; I just know I was hoping for a little bit longer and the chance to see things through. 

Maybe that’s my stubbornness talking. I hold on to things tightly. 

I guess a part of me is happy she ended things because deep down, I know I’d never have the willpower to do it. I would have waited forever for her to be the person I needed, even though she never could be.

Something I’ve learned in this beginning stage of healing is that I haven’t lost any love. The shape of the love I receive has changed significantly, but it’s all still there.

I’ve been hugging my friends a little tighter, reconnecting with lost acquaintances and smiling a little longer at the barista while they take my order. The love is still there, I just have to add it up instead of reaping the ease of one source. 

If I have any advice on how to get through a breakup, it’s this: you have to let go. There is no benefit to holding on to a relationship that isn’t working. It will make your pain cyclical instead of just a season. Piece by piece, you have to loosen your grip on what once was or what might have been.

Do with that what you will; I’m not an expert.

I’ll throw away her toothbrush, I’ll start waking up early again and going to bed when I’m tired, I’ll park my car with no care of how close the passenger door is to a snowbank and I’ll pretend it’s all sweeter in solitude until it’s no longer a lie.

There’s a multitude of things I miss about Bird being in my life, but my biggest focus at the moment is how I’ll handle dinner. I’m not sure I’ll be able to make Crock-Pot meals anymore. They just aren’t practical for one.