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The ones that break our hearts.

Shurukian

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The ones that break our hearts are always the best. That one person that understands you more than anyone, that seems so perfect. So wonderful. They give us the best songs, write us the best words, send us the best pictures, and speak the best lines. They show us what love feels like, and suddenly we understand that the world looks so much more beautiful from the passenger side of someone’s heart. They ignite the deepest desire in us, and a constant thought of ‘If I could have this perfectly for just one moment, just hold you and hear you say you love me for one second, my life would be complete’. They understand how to look at you, hug you, speak to you at the perfect instant. These people are all we’ve ever dreamed of. When we think of perfection, we define them. They are nothing but wonderful to us. They are all we need.

There are reasons that our hearts are broken. Why our stories are so unique, yet so identical. Our ex literary lovers, our distant heart breakers, they are nothing but piles of what if’s and possiblys. We spin our untold futures into love songs that don’t exist. To us, they are as beautiful as the wind shaping the Earth into ripples of feelings. We call them ‘wonderstruck’. They call us ‘not quite yet’. The passion that breaks your heart comes from biting reality of unreturned love. And maybe they did love us, but they never loved us the most. We were always second place in a one man race. Our love, our passion, only intensified by the fact that this person might just love us tomorrow, might just come around. We stay, and we fight, and we spend too many nights with tears that are better saved for softer sorrows. We believe that if we can move at just the right frequency, they will realize that we are beautiful human beings that would deliver the moon to them in a bottle, if only we could.

We are the back ups, the second choices, the rebounds, the time passers. We are the temporary obsessions, the affairs, the long term lost lovers. We are everything but good enough. We make them feel as if the world was created to make only them smile, but we still never see the gold medal.

We never truly win the race.

We fill a gap. They want our words, our hearts, but not our souls. We are a dispensary system for the things they need, but we are never what they want. And when they are finished with us, we are left cold, crumbled, and calloused. We build our castles of mortar and brick and swear never to let down the bridge.

Until one day, the castle crumbles.

At some point, we must realize that second place is not enough. That the moon can’t be contained in a bottle. That we’ve never seen the passenger side of our love’s heart, because we were always locked in the back seat. Our past loves are past loves for a reason – in a chain that’s necessary to support love, a link was broken. A piece missing. We cannot force those these people to love only us. To want only us. While we spent days memorizing the way the lines on their skin fit with ours like puzzle pieces, they spent days thinking about the ways to explain to why there was two people running a one man race. We were never their dream.

We are worth the stars. We deserve the passenger seat. We will find real love. A love that wakes you at six in the morning to tell you how beautiful you are. A love that believes you are the best thing that has ever happened to them since recess in the third grade. A love that is comfortable. A love that is honest. We deserve to hand the world to someone and have them paint it into a galaxy. They may not give you the best music. Or say just the right words. Or keep you up at night praying that maybe tomorrow, they’ll be yours. Because real, true love will never make us wonder. It will never be unconfident. It will never make us feel like we are molding to the whim of a person that is as yielding as a runaway train. We will understand that a heart is only complete when you can look into the eyes of the person that completes your world and know that there is honestly no place on Earth that they would rather be.

A love like this is worth waiting for. The ones that break our hearts open our eyes to understand what it will look like. We love, we hurt, and we learn. And by understanding what it is like to love a person so completely, we understand how a person should love us in return. Never settle for being someone’s second place. Because sometime, somewhere, we will create something beautiful.



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Is this cliche and boring?

My impression of this essay is that it is poetic, eloquent, and sincere. The situation Shurikian is writing about, is of course, cliche, because many people do fall into these types of relationships and do make similar decisions about such relationships. But what makes it notable is its quality. It is generally well-written and generally sincere, the metaphors are well-employed and contribute to the effectiveness of the essay; structurally, the piece sticks together, communicating the underlying sentiment effectively.

The aspect I admire most about the essay is the understated quality of emotion. It is a selenic grief; there are no histrionics, it is marked by an apparent calm and a slightly-tensed composure. This is where its sincerity lies; unlike the majority of dreck that youths and teenagers post onto the Internet, it does not say what it does not have to and it is not narcissistic through expanding the trivial into the profound. It gives the experience its proper due and no more.

Thus, as far as being cliche and boring goes, it liberates itself from banality through its quality.

===

That said, $%&@ you Shurikian, I can write what I want where I want and where I want about your personal essays.

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Is this cliche and boring?My impression of this essay is that it is poetic, eloquent, and sincere. The situation Shurikian is writing about, is of course, cliche, because many people do fall into these types of relationships and do make similar decisions about such relationships. But what makes it notable is its quality. It is generally well-written and generally sincere, the metaphors are well-employed and contribute to the effectiveness of the essay; structurally, the piece sticks together, communicating the underlying sentiment effectively.The aspect I admire most about the essay is the understated quality of emotion. It is a selenic grief; there are no histrionics, it is marked by an apparent calm and a slightly-tensed composure. This is where its sincerity lies; unlike the majority of dreck that youths and teenagers post onto the Internet, it does not say what it does not have to and it is not narcissistic through expanding the trivial into the profound. It gives the experience its proper due and no more.Thus, as far as being cliche and boring goes, it liberates itself from banality through its quality.===That said, $%&@ you Shurikian, I can write what I want where I want and where I want about your personal essays.

Thank you Inst, I don't normally get these types of critiques. It's great to have someone finally analyze the structure and composition.

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