"No, I'm Sid."

"I don't think I was built for a love that is comfortable and uncomplicated. There is a restlessness in me that will always be drawn to dark, madly passionate things. The intoxicating highs and devastating lows. The chaos and the conflict."
— Beau Taplin, Sid and Nancy



Moving on and being broken.

These phrases suggest nothing but a sad phase in life. A nightmare you wish you can wake up from. A memory you wish to erase.

But I guess this is what most of us have been missing all this time about the idea of "moving on":



Moving on is a beautiful thing.



Generally speaking, when someone tells you that they're trying to move on, from something or someone — it means they're broken.

And being broken is beautiful, too. It feels... human. Vulnerable in things you can't see.

Being broken is beautiful and addictive, at the same time. It's intoxicating. You get a sense of excitement that is so hard to describe with words.

When we sit and bury ourselves in our beds, wide awake, going back to the past, replaying the scenes in our heads when we were still happy. When we were complete. Whole. Not broken.

And you know it's painful, right? You know it's painful, but you do it, anyway. John Green said so, himself.

Pain demands to be felt.

But in most cases, pain doesn't demand to be felt. It doesn't demand for anything. Sometimes, pain tends to forget its task — to demand and to let its presence be known in our lives.



Sometimes, pain is nowhere to be found. And yet we will never settle. Pain is absent, therefore we induce it, instead. We induce pain. We make it happen. We challenge it, we look for it in places we hide from people.



Why do we do this, you asked? Because it's something we're familiar with. Pain is home. It's — surprisingly — comfortably easy. Pain is a comfort zone, and nobody wants to leave their comfort zones, at least not right away.

It's pretty fucked up, I know. But we love obsessing about pain. Nostalgia is such a pretty word, but it can be deceitful, too. It gives you all the warm and fuzzy feeling inside, right before it kills you — with no mercy. And we loved it. We enjoyed torturing ourselves.

We hear a song on a radio (or Spotify, since it's more relatable), and we gladly let it take us back in time. In places we shouldn't be going back, even just in our minds.

We meet a random stranger, and we will let this innocent situation remind us of how they have the same eye color, or how that shirt looks exactly the same as the shirt they were wearing the last time you saw them.



How someone's presence feels like, their scent, how their voice sounds like over the phone, how their jokes made you laugh, how their words comforted and consoled you.

This and more, and the strange, beautiful idea that you will never understand no matter how hard you try — the simple yet profound impact of the two of you holding hands.

Because some people can and will hold your hand — and you will feel secured and safe.

Some will give you a promise of a constant companion.

But there will be some people who will hold your hand, place those fingers right in between yours, showing you how they fit perfectly and how it feels so perfect...



And then they will let go.



So you will look back. You will look back from where you think it started to go wrong.

Did I say something bad?

Did he realize I'm not pretty enough?

Am I too clingy?

I must've invaded his personal space at some point.

Maybe he didn't like it when I was too jealous?

Maybe I wasn't sweet enough?

Or maybe I was too sweet, it annoyed him.

Or maybe I was not fun anymore. He said I was fun...

Or maybe I was just not really "that" fun in the first place.



And you will do this. An endless, painful cycle, inside your head — for hours. Days. Weeks. Months. Maybe years. And in between this reminiscing, you will start digging for what if's, why's and could have been's.

This reminds of the time when Tom Hansen was broken and devastated because Summer Finn left him. She left him and asked to just be friends because she thought they've been like Sid and Nancy for months (her being Sid, and not Nancy). Tom's younger sister talked him through moving on. She said:
I know you think she's the one, but I don't. I think you're just remembering the good stuff. Next time you look back, I really think you should look again.

And that's exactly what Tom did. He stepped back, because he was standing too close to Summer, or at least the idea of Summer being the perfect girl. He looked back, and realized a lot of things. A lot of things.

For example, he realized that Summer's favorite Beatle is Ringo Starr. And nobody likes Ringo Starr. LOL

And we tend to do this. We are Tom. We set our standards up high, and it's good to set your standards high because you deserve it, everyone else deserve it. But we have to understand and we have to remember that most people — including us — are unable to see the difference between loving someone and loving the idea of them.

So if you're broken, whether someone broke you, or you did this to yourself, that's perfectly fine. That's human. Be human. Take your time to feel everything. Absorb all the pain that comes with it. Allow yourself to fall completely apart, and feel that it's perfectly okay not wanting to get up for a while.

Until you accept the fact that you basically gave this person the power over you by placing your heart in their hands — that you gave them the power to break you should they wish to, until you accept the fact that you gambled, and that in gambling, you take the risk of losing, you will never be ready to move on.

Moving on is hard, but knowing when to move on is harder.

Once you've gone past this stage, then you should be good.

So get up, make your bed. Cook food for two, even if you're alone, if you feel like it. Have dinner in your favorite family restaurant. Travel. Learn a new language. Buy that dress even if there's no occasion. Buy it because it looks good on you. Get a new haircut. Write. Binge watch. Meet new people. Kiss a stranger, if you want to. Just do anything that will make you feel beautiful. Not for someone, but for you. Do something that will help you gain your self worth back. And that after all of this, you CAN and you WILL trust again. That's the fun part — taking risks.

Because that's what moving on is all about. It's about accepting the fact that you're defeated, while telling yourself it's okay, pulling yourself together because you know that you are better than this, making your own spring inside you after a long, cold and lonely winter, the season that almost killed you — left you broken.

But that's the beauty of being broken. It humbles you. It makes you realize that you're just like everybody else — you can get hurt. Because being broken will push you to your limits, making you know yourself more. Being broken will teach you how to forgive people. It makes you better. Stronger and wiser. It will help you appreciate the little good things in life. And being broken takes out the wrong people from your life, giving a new room for the right ones to come.



So the next time you hear the phrases "moving on" and "being broken", know that these are some of the most beautiful moments in life.





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For my twin soul Rach, fellow writer Sunny, My favorite Libran Gracie, Blue-eyed doll captain america Robin, and to every person and situation that made me feel broken. Thank you.