Sad Love Story: My Love and Broken Heart

It’s been more than a year now, but his name still does what it did to me when I first heard it. My heart still beats faster and I know that I’m stuck. The point is, he’s the first guy in my life who touched my soul. The first one who has made me feel differently. Who has made me feel, something!

I changed my number after getting a new job. I kept myself busy in order to avoid thinking about him. I would roam around aimlessly just to get some peace of mind. I was sooo lost that often I would sit in the park in the dark hours alone. I would cry out loud and hope that someone would at least listen to me. I would hide my tears in my blanket and in my pillow.

I would hammer myself in the night so that no one could see me. I cried for him and it was as if my heart had been torn apart from my body.

I recollected the days when we used to spend quality time together in the park. Now it was just a space. We would fight with each other using a pillow. Here I am now fighting with myself. There were days when we slept on each other’s laps and supported our heads of each other’s shoulders. But now there was only one pair of shoulders in the room. We would go out to restaurants. He would take selfies and I would feel so happy that I had made him smile. Now when I was in a restaurant there was no one with me. There was no happiness in my life. Our relationship lasted for almost 4 years.

I ran out of tears. The pillow was too wet to be dried in the sun. I had lost count of the number of sleepless nights that I had spent. After facing all the odds and battling with depression, I decided to take charge of my life again.

I went ahead and enrolled myself in a foreign language course. I studied French. I invested my time fruitfully and kept myself busy. Time is the best healer for any kind of sorrow.

But whenever I see guys, I know that I am trying to find him in them. I know he is unique – one of a kind. I never felt the same kind of love that I had for him again.

It is said that “Time and money make you feel rich but only love makes you feel worthy”.

I still have all the pictures that we clicked together. I have all the stuff that we shared. I still remember the funny moments that I shared with him. All his innocent smiles are stored in my storage. I would always open it whenever I was alone or missed him a lot. I laughed at his funny ways. I still love him the way I used to earlier.

Don’t worry about me. I’ll amble along just fine. It’s you who needs to live with the guilt. Because I only lost the person whom I loved, but you, my dear, lost the girl who loved you the most.’

But now, I have turned into a girl who doesn’t care about anyone anymore. And today, I am mature and heartbreaks have washed off the unreal shimmer of such feelings. True love is just an illusion. It never really exists. I learnt it later in life, but thankful to you I learnt it well.

Sad Love Story Essay 2

I met her in the city of love – Paris. Francine peered through the crowd, rocking on her heels. The icy cold hair swept her lush bouncy brunette hair across her plump face. There was sunshine in her smile and her chocolate brown eyes woke the butterflies in my stomach. She dressed in casual clothing, the ubiquitous look all French girls wore; tight denim jeans, woolly sweater and heeled boots but something about her pulled me closer. Despite it being our first date, we felt an instant connection; it seemed like the most wholesome thing in the world. I never knew my parents and for years I looked for them but after meeting Francine there was no need to search anymore; she had become my support, friend and my family. She never left my mind; she was always there; emotionally if not physically. It felt like an absolute dream to wake up to her beautiful face every morning and come home to the delicious dinner she prepared. She was my only one constancy in a world filled with chaos. She was my special girl.

Francine was always the intelligent one, she transcended everyone around her. She was the liveliest person in any room and the one everyone admired. However, it all began to change after her mother passed away. She became withdrawn and her personality descended into dark thoughts. Soon money started to disappear and items of value from our house started to vanish. Her plump face began to thin, and her eyes looked like they were swallowed by her bony skull. Her hour-glass figure becoming more stick-like showing her frail skeleton. Her once fashionable and glamorous clothes looked like they were thrift store-cast offs. Despite my continued attempts to retrieve her from the never-ending black hole Francine wasn’t the same anymore. All of her life was stolen by the drugs and confined in the jail of fears. She quit working and the demand for money gradually increased creating a financial burden for me. The drugs took her away from me piece by piece. They took over her, crumbled her like a walking corpse that’s ready to be laid into a coffin and engulfed by darkness.

One day when I arrived home from work, I saw her laying on the floor surrounded by syringes and cigarettes. Her eyes were shut, and her face was blue. Her mouth was covered in vomit. I shook her but she didn’t move. My breaths came in short gasps and I felt like I would pass out. My heart was hammering inside my ribcage. The room spun, I knelt on the floor trying to make everything slower, but my brain and body didn’t co-operate. With my shaky hand I grasped my phone and dialled for emergency. My face was numb, and streams of tears ran down my face. My brain felt it was being shredded from the inside. I screamed at the top of my lungs and began to cry hysterically only to be interrupted by my drawing of breaths.

My entire life fell apart. I had lost the only person in my life whom I cared for. Without her, I had no motivation to live.

Thankfully, my friends stepped in to prevent me from making the worst mistake of my life.

The thought of her still consumes me every day. I pick up the last remaining memory I have of her and zip my bag ready to leave the haven that supported my recovery for the past nine months.

Although my love story didn’t end with a ‘happy ever after’, I feel extremely appreciative for having an opportunity to meet Francine and building immeasurable amount memories with her, even if they were bittersweet.

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