Hearts are breakable,’ Isabelle said. ‘And I think even when you heal, you’re never what you were before.

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Being heartbroken doesn’t mean you stop feeling. Just the opposite—it means you feel it all more.

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This time I wouldn’t forget him, because I couldn’t ever forgive him – for breaking my heart twice.

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In the aftermath of our love, the debris of broken promises litters the landscape of my soul, each shard a painful reminder of a trust that crumbled.

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My heart shattered like glass when I discovered the lies. Love turned into a bitter game, leaving me with wounds that bleed anger and regret.

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Moving on doesn’t mean you forget about things, it just means you have to accept what happened and continue living.

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Like autumn leaves, we fell apart, each drifting on our separate winds. Yet, beneath the fallen foliage, I found the strength to start anew.

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You were the author of my happiness, but you left my story unfinished, with chapters of longing and paragraphs of pain, penned by the ink of tears.

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One day you’re going to remember me and how much I loved you… then you’re gonna hate yourself for letting me go.

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Love isn't a puzzle to be solved; sometimes, it's a maze leading to unexpected exits. In finding my way out, I discovered the freedom of self-love.

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Breaking up is like a caterpillar shedding its cocoon; painful yet essential for the emergence of a beautiful butterfly—a new chapter awaits.

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My love life is like a pizza delivery—promised in 30 minutes, but ends up cold, disappointing, and with extra cheese of heartache.

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