I think it’s because the first love is the most innocent love; we love innocently and freely and open up too much and love too deeply.. and the first heartbreak is our loss of innocence, of romanticism. We’re crushed and devastated and we try to protect ourselves, but the love is too deep to forget..
When your pain is tangible. You can reach out and touch it. It’s everywhere, consuming you. You don’t even realise how long it’s been eating away at your insides until you finally cave in and crumble helplessly, crashing, spiralling down, hopeless. The terrible tightening in your chest, the constriction of your lungs, the deep, shuddering breaths in as you try to hold back the inevitable- then you break. Now comes the painful, wracking sobs, screaming silently, your damaged self seeping out through the cracks that you flimsily repair each time you fall apart. But this time, those cracks have split wide open, leaving gaping holes in your being. You wail for a long time, weeping pitifully as you cry yourself a pool of self-sympathy, until you are empty, benumbed, turned inside out.
And then your brain shuts down and you fall asleep.