it's easy.

1. let him enchant you

you’ll think you’re above this, you’ll think you’re the one with him wrapped around your finger; meanwhile, you don’t notice your own body knotting -

2. let him in

let him know you. let him know your day, your thoughts, bits of your heart. share music, share opinions, laughter. let him find you interesting, funny, witty, whatever else. let him find you something that matters.

3. be vulnerable

this part is hard for you. you’re normally so grounded. but tell yourself it’s okay; he’s the smart, beautiful boy with the kind eyes and he’d never hurt you. you know this latter part to be absolutely true. tell yourself that, even you, the eternal pessimist, deserves to be optimistic about perhaps just this one thing. for once be tender to yourself. trust the sky won’t fall.

4. get comfortable.

this step is absolutely essential in the process. crave his touch, smile into his kisses because you’re just so **** happy, wow!, sleep sound beside him and know you can tell him anything; your thoughts are never unacceptable. plan ahead because there's no reason not to. don’t realise that gut feelings of longevity don’t necessarily go both ways.

5. be blindsided

the day comes when he decides to break your heart, and you’re busy planning what to make him for breakfast. have the wind knocked out of you, and the tears, too. he’s crying as well, and he knows you didn’t see this coming, didn’t think he’d be the one having to do this. he says all of the nice things about you, tries to be chivalrous; says he’ll miss you. it’s strange that as the two of you fall apart, you’re thinking about how well you fit together. it feels like a waste to throw away something that’s barely begun, but if he says it’s not right you can’t argue. maybe it is just the distance, maybe it would have worked out otherwise, or maybe not. regardless, you’re left with the feeling of something gorgeous - some piece of art - left unfinished. you can’t even get angry because you know he didn’t want to hurt you. you’re soft for him, and now you’re pulp, floored and wondering why you can’t stop forgiving the boy who put you there.

nice boys break hearts the worst because they do it with kindness, with good intentions peppered with apologies and well-meaning and ‘I wish it could have worked out, you know’, ‘it’s not that I don’t care’. they always think you deserve better, but don’t realise they’re it. now you have to navigate a world in which the confluence of your bodies doesn’t exist anymore, in which the poetry of romantics isn’t for you any longer.

breathe. countdown.