1.

It hurts. That’s unexpected. I mean, I know every song, poem and movie throughout history tells you it hurts but you don’t expect your heart to actually, physically, hurt when it breaks. It’s an odd, uneasy pain too, aching but sharp. A dull throbbing pain with a jagged edge.

Lying on my back, I probe my breastbone to see if there’s a bruise, if it’s sore to the touch. It feels that way, like there should be visible evidence of the pain. I suppose the empty shelves devoid of his books and record collection is evidence enough, but I still would like something tangible, something I could see to make sense of what’s happened.

Still lying prone, I type into my phone – ‘physical pain broken heart’. Oh, there you go. I’m not the only one then, not special, or different just heartbroken like the millions who have gone before me. I wonder how long this will pain will last. Is it a percentage of the length of the relationship or is it more to do with how intensely you feel, how deeply in love you are and how entrenched you were in each other’s lives? And if it’s all of the above? Well then, I guess I’m screwed.

I keep rerunning the events of the night before. It all seemed to happen at speed, but I guess he had been planning it all for a while. The logic, the explaining, the reasonableness of the whole fucking thing. My stomach is still rolling from it, my mind reeling. It seems idiotic really that I didn’t see it coming. Especially after the last few months, well years really.

I prod my chest again, the ache is still there, lingering. I must remember not to touch my chest like that in front of my sister Maggie, she’s a total hypochondriac and will have me booked in for a mammogram appointment before I know it. Sigh. I need to get up, I can’t stay in bed all day even if I want to. I refuse to behave stereotypically, there will be no new haircut for me, no drastic life changes, no women’s only yoga holidays, and no unwise one-night stands with younger men. I will be brave. Heart sore but brave – life will go on, without my love, without my husband. Jasper. The prick.

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