Letting go of love is sort of like watching a droplet of water fall from something. If you’ve ever sat inside on a rainy day and watched water drip from your gutters and roof, you’ll probably recognize this.

As you watch, you begin to see the weight of the water forming a droplet, slowly. Sometimes the bead will move a bit, sliding back and forth along the gutter as the weight of the water settles inside it, buffeted by wind or other raindrops. But it continues to grow and swell before the weight of it becomes too much for the surface tension to withstand. Before you know it, the swollen bead has detached itself from the gutter and begins hurtling in a free-fall towards the ground on its way to journey it has no knowledge of, a future it cannot predict.

I feel like losing love is like that. It swells and grows heavy, the weight of tensions and misplaced feelings pressing against the fibers of our beings until we can no longer stand the pressure and are forced, in a moment we may not even recognize, to let go and begin our own free fall to a course unknown.