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I helped a friend move out of her ex-boyfriend’s place yesterday. The whole situation left me thinking about every instance of heartbreak I’d since experienced and how I’ve adapted to them. Here’s what I do: I diminish the other person’s presence in my head by humanizing them, focusing on their normalcy until they’re no longer deified in my mind. I admit my coping mechanism leaves me feeling cold-hearted at times, and it reminds me of that scene from “Casino Royale” where Daniel Craig coolly replies, “The job’s done and the bitch is dead.” I wouldn’t go that far, of course, but you can see what I mean. C’est la vie. Che passa… I don’t know.
“Having a twin as your lover, you’ll never be free…”
But occasionally you meet someone to whom the above method does not apply. This person is special, and you wouldn’t dare tarnish their image because in your mind they are perfect… whatever “perfect” can mean. Is it bad to say something is just “not meant to be?” How can someone be the love of your life if they’ve already found theirs? How can you still trust your feelings if you feel you’ve been misled?
It brings to mind another scene from another movie, this time “Les Poupées Russes,” where the main character is told by his friend that he needs to stop dreaming of the ideal woman… to which he simply responds, “Why stop dreaming?” You can’t help who you love. You can’t be anyone but yourself. So you kick your ass with reality until the fantasy in your head finds a quiet place in the confines of your heart. Never forgotten, but rarely attended.
“All I want is you… The thought of us gets me through the day…”
And you let the feeling slip slowly like sweet poison from the veins…
C’est la vie.
Che passa.
… I don’t know.
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