ZOE GONZALEZ / DAILY NEXUS
Everyone, at a certain point in their life, will fall in love and experience a pink-colored relationship. As cliché as it may sound, you will also get heartbroken. I’ve always been careful with who I give my heart to. I’ve had bad luck in relationships, but there was one that changed my life. Two years of pure love, laughter and cherished moments — until it ended.
I wasn’t ready to let go. I was convinced that if I just placed a few bandaids on our hearts, I could get my love back. I was willing to try. But my “love” wasn’t.
The calendar marked five months of no contact. Everyone says “no contact” is the best cure. But no one talks about the gut-wrenching pain, the heartache, the way your daily routine starts to crumble. Inconsistencies become your new normal. Fake scenarios run wild in your mind. You sleep with hope and wake up with disappointment.
“We don’t deserve this,” I whisper while holding my best friend’s hand. The vexed silence of those five months followed me everywhere, waiting — hoping — for a text, a call. My phone would ring at 2 a.m., and I’d jolt awake, thinking it was them. I couldn’t walk the same streets we once walked together. I couldn’t listen to Karol G, our favorite artist. “Si Antes Te Hubiera Conocido” (“If I had you known before”) once made me feel happy. Now, it wrapped me in discomfort. I stopped listening to it altogether.
I avoided Zocalo, our favorite Mexican restaurant in Isla Vista. I’d picture them devouring a chicken burrito and laughing at something only I would understand. That image alone was enough to keep me away.
When Bad Bunny’s new album, “Debí Tirar Más Fotos” (“I Should Have Taken More Photos”), dropped in January, it hit different. The lyrics explore the complexity of missing someone you once loved unconditionally. But the title didn’t quite fit for me — my phone was already full of too many photos and too many memories. If anything, I would’ve named it “Debí Tirar Menos Fotos” (“I Should Have Taken Fewer Photos”).
His lyrics pierced through me like cold wind through a cracked window. I had no answers, only feelings. Depression wrapped around me like a heavy coat. I was sad, miserable. It was a stage I’d never experienced before. I tried to fight it — through the gym, hikes, running, deleting social media. But healing isn’t linear.
It wasn’t until spring break that clarity began to surface. I traveled to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, with two of my best friends — people who’ve stood by me through half of my college journey and this painful breakup.
Ironically, we had planned the trip months before. It was supposed to be the four of us: my two best friends, me and my ex-love. That detail haunted me. Still, I wasn’t ready to admit that love had turned into something else — something I had to let go. I kept asking, “Why me?” and “Why do they leave when you love them the most?”
NESTOR MANZANARES / DAILY NEXUS
Then came the ocean.
The warm, light-blue waves of the Pacific offered me the answers no words could. At Conchas Chinas Beach — known for its soft sand and serene water — we lay on the beach under a sky painted with strokes of violet, orange and deep blue. The sun set in front of us. We listened to The Marías. It felt like a movie. But in my heart, the question still lingered: “Can I still fix it?”
I stood up, drawn to the ocean. I stumbled onto the soft sand and walked toward the big blue. The warm water kissed my feet, and little by little, I moved closer to the horizon. Gentle waves rocked me back and forth like a floating object. The water reached past my belly button. The sun’s neon orange light blinded me.
Suddenly, the sand shifted beneath my feet. I tried to walk deeper, but each step became harder. The deeper I went, the more dangerous it felt. That’s when the realization hit: the ocean was my love. Beautiful, full of mystery — but also capable of swallowing me whole. If I surrendered to it, I’d drown. If I kept chasing something that no longer wanted me, I’d lose myself.
My heart began to race — not from love, but from fear. The waves pulled me in. The water reached my neck. I turned back and saw Kim, one of my best friends, yelling:
“Nestor! Get out! You’ll drown!”
That was the moment I knew — I had to let go.
As magnificent and full of life as the ocean is, it also holds its dangers. And just like that, so did the love I once had. It was beautiful, but it was over. I had to move forward. I had to choose myself. I had to find peace in my own reflection, not in the echoes of what used to be.
Where love sank, Nestor Manzanares learned to float.
This article was originally published in Spanish, and can be found in the La Vista section of the Daily Nexus. The Spanish translation appeared on p.13 of the May 1, 2025 edition of the Daily Nexus. The English translation appeared on p.15 of the May 8, 2025 edition of the Daily Nexus.
