My Broken Heart by Noah and the Whale

Earlier I was reading interviews with Laura Marling. They mentioned that The First Days of Spring was the album that Noah and the Whale frontman, Charlie Fink, wrote about their break-up and I realized I hadn’t thought about any of that music in forever. It had been subconsciously tucked away, repressed files on a library shelf in some impenetrable part of my cerebral cortex; until this very moment.

“I’ve been looking for hope these days…”

There is only one time of my life that this reminds me of: Spring 2011. I’d spent the better portion of that year in love with a boy; reciprocated feelings that never bared fruit. It was a complicated love affair, religion and politics segregated us (so much for separation of church and state). He visited me daily at the governmental affairs office, I started going to his church.  He wasn’t allowed to be with anyone that wasn’t grounded in Christ. It all ended one day when I finally told him, I just don’t get this stuff. I doesn’t make any sense to me and I can’t force myself to believe it; I didn’t want to live in this lie anymore.

“But love’s not finding me…”

The second nail to the cross came when he invited me to hang out to tell me he was going to ask out another girl. He insisted on telling me exactly why he liked her for some strange reason, “I like her because she is who she says she is all the time.” I’m glad you had the decency to tell me. A week later he ran up to me to tell me he was dating her. A year later he was sending me postcards across America to invite me to their wedding. I never heard from them again.

“But now my heart’s been broken…”

Another one of our friends invited me to hang out in his dorm room and listen to albums. It was a sounding session, he played this album and I reviewed each song. He borrowed me the album. I came back to my room, put this song on repeat and let every emotion pour out of  my tear ducts, every little insecurity, every feeling of resentment, every inadequacy.

“There’s nothing you can do…”

I had a great friend back then, we took care of each other in these moments because her favourite person in the world had broken her heart for an easier life with a vapid stick figure. We used to sit in her room and play ukulele, discuss psychology, and share boisterous laughs about shared memories. She would be my saving grace back then, and I would later destroy this friendship upon my return to the college town nine months later with the final words, “How can this still be effecting you? It’s time to move on with your life already.” She will never talk to me again, naivety breeds childish consequences. We learn to embrace the cycles as they come and ride the waves of this emotional rollercoaster called life.

“I’m impenetrable to pain…”


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