There must always be an end - and sometimes it will come quickly, tsunami waves crashing around you until the land you knew is swept away, nothing but debris and waste. Other times, it will be subtle, waking up in a room you barely recognise as your own, disorientated and alone, your feet cold from being out of the covers for a half hour too long. The end will wind you, leave you with a gaping hole, and yet your soul will find some satisfaction that the circle is completed; you will brand the shape on your body as a sign of war - of defeat and strength in one swift movement.
You may not eat for three days, and sleep will bring little in the way of rest - but you will heal. Bit by bit, you will laugh - find friends in the unlikeliest of places. You will stop criticising yourself, cry it out to anybody who will listen, write angry letters that will never be sent in red pen on the too-thin pad that your therapist provides on the table. The end is also a new beginning, anxious peering around a corner as you don't know what to expect - butterflies of sorrow replaced with those of wonder, itching with adventure still on the horizon. Their name will still taste sour on your tongue, but it won't spill tears or make you block out the daylight.
In the end - you will understand. You will understand that love is not all that you need, you will understand that it takes two to make something work and, it will take a while but, you will understand that your inability to understand how somebody can stop loving somebody else will never be a weakness. Then when you have healed, you will start the circle again - with a girl who flashes a grin at you in a coffee shop, or with a boy with a shy laugh, or with somebody, somewhere; and you will tread familiar paths, but maybe this time the sun will seem brighter, and the flowers will be softer colours - and everything will be the same, but nothing will be.
Watch minute hands tick and lose yourself to the sound of the sea and as the rain falls onto the glass of the conservatory roof - let it heal you, let yourself love again, let yourself feel loved. You have felt like this before, and you will feel like this again - but one day you won't. One day instead, you will stand at an altar, or you will hold a baby with impossibly tiny fists and those holes that still lingered, soft but insistent, will be filled with love like you've never felt before.
Allow yourself healing and time - for this is the end. One day, there will be an end that only time can cause; but never forget, there will always be an end.