On how to break your heart in 14 days or less
Let’s get in the mood first.
Heartbreak is at the core of some of the finest works of literature, the grandest of musical symphonies and the most acclaimed of cinematic masterpieces. We yearn to watch characters get their hearts broken for many reasons. Perhaps to be able to confront our deep-seated feelings and experience catharsis from behind the safe wall of fictional narrative. Perhaps to explore our personal traumas. Perhaps to feel better about ourselves, knowing that our pain is not as large as that of the character behind the screen, between the lines of text, in the gaps of silence.
Getting your heart ‘broken’ creates a disastrous mix of emotional stress and longing – one that can leave you in the most vulnerable states of inescapable limbo.
Luckily enough, heartbreak isn’t experienced by accident. Strong ties need to be developed with the object of desire (be it a person, a place, an object, or an intangible) for heartbreak to be properly experienced. And strong ties require one to invest considerable time and energy to develop, and even more so to sever…
…but what if?
What if you could somehow ‘fast track’ creating these strong ties? What if you could come to feel a strong sense of belonging to a place, to a community, to an idea – all in a very short amount of time?
Dear readers of my blog, this is a guide on how to break your heart in 14 days or less. Please use it with caution.
This is me getting my heart broken 22 months ago, in July of 2024. In total, I’ve spent (at least) a grand total of 126 days getting my heart broken. I’ve become somewhat of an expert at it. I’ve experienced heartbreak in Italy, in Poland, in Greece, in Serbia, in Tenerife, in Sicily, even in Malta – but in the above photo, I’m getting my heart broken in Turkey.
Here’s another photo. Not the most flattering, I admit… here I’m lining up a shot for a short film I was directing. This heartbreak happened in Athens.
Regardless of the location, in each one of those 100+ days of heartbreak, I was surrounded with people that were (at least, for a short while in the beginning) complete strangers to me. For a week or two at a time, I lived with these people day in, day out. I ate breakfast, lunch and dinner with them. I watched the sun set and stayed up to watch it rise again with them.
I met all these people on Erasmus+ projects. Hundreds of them, all close to my age, all coming from every imaginable corner of Europe, from every imaginable social class and having every imaginable life story to tell.
It’s an absurd thing when you think about it. The European Commission, in their efforts to promote transnational cooperation and learning, pumps a whopping 26 billion euros every 7 years into a program called Erasmus+. How it works is local youth organisations apply with project ideas to host youth exchanges. These applications are vetted and eventually funded. And who does the money reach? People like me (who, as we’ve established, are masochists that like to get their hearts broken).
The money funds every single cent of my travel, my accommodation and my food for the duration of the project (usually averaging around 7-14 days). Every dime that comes out of my pocket does so purely to satisfy my whims; perhaps to buy a nice t-shirt for myself or a souvenir for mum.
Needless to say, not all Erasmus+ projects are cut from the same cloth. I’ve slept in lavish hotels with 55” TV screens, and dingy rooms with CRT TVs from the 80s. I’ve attended world premieres at the Venice Film Festival, and I’ve also watched home-made films on classroom projectors in desperate need of a bulb change. I’ve walked in streets where my breath was taken away, and in ones where I needed to hold my breath…
There is however a common denominator to these projects: you end up meeting amazing people. People you wish you could take back home with you, that are so incredibly easy to speak to, that share your same interests and can offer insights from their home countries. People you could marry on the spot, or ask to be your best man, or enlist as groomsmen and bridesmaids.
So when I speak about a 100+ days of heartbreak, I’m not referring to the 55” TV screens, to the world premieres, to the breathtaking streets.
I’m referring to the people you meet, that for a brief while, become the centre of your universe and fill your heart with so much love… that it ends up breaking.
So fuck it. Go out there and get your heart broken, whether it’s by joining an Erasmus+ project or doing whatever the fuck. Heartbreak doesn’t get any easier with time, and there’s no such thing as building a tolerance (I’ve tried). But there’s something so visceral about having your heart broken, so gut-wrenching like no other feeling, that it makes loving, and being loved, all the more sweet.
xxx