If you will permit me to have a Carrie Bradshaw moment - I have been thinking of the beauty within pain. Pain of heartbreak that is.
Looking back at lost love it’s easy to slip into the romantic delusion that your heart belongs to your lost love and the fact it is no longer there, brings about a feeling of loss so profound the pain is palpable.
To be denied the connection you had with someone - a love and lust that can no longer feed in the physical realm - is to find yourself in a world of solitude, of aloneness that leaves us in a state that is nothing less than aching.
But interesting it is - this state of melancholy can also be tantalising, consuming and addictive. The state of mind that allows itself to be lost to and idealise the past is an escape from reality, the now, the present, where we are and where we need to journey.
It's the elixir of anaesthesia.
Sure our (now ex) boyfriends may have been the best thing since sliced bread but the universe paves its way in unforseen territories and if she forces us to part - it is essential we honour this and accept the inevitability our step is to build a new life sans Don Juan.
Find our own feet and tread the next gradient solo.
Until the future man of our dreams falls in our lap, it's our romantic connection to the nostalgia of the past that keeps lost loves at the forefront of our minds and in our present.
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