A Broken Heart Feels Bad at Every AMC

especially in Glendale.

I have somehow managed to spend three holiday seasons in a row in some sort of heartbroken state. I spent Thanksgiving in 2024 seeing Wicked with my best friend, who had to spend the week consoling me while I dealt with the most excruciating breakup I have ever experienced from someone I dated for two weeks. There are few worse places for being in the throws of heartbreak than a Wicked screening at an AMC on Thanksgiving, for there is no room more filled with exhaustingly naive optimism. It did not feel good in there despite what Nicole has been hypothesizing for however long that ad has been running. I was engulfed in a despair so impermeable that even Wicked could not penetrate — in my state I found Wicked to be visually ugly and emotionally contrived. I do not know what the truth is because I have not seen it again; it’s far too long, and I will stand by that.

I cried for four straight weeks. I cried so much that I stopped reading and writing and drinking water and thinking and sleeping and eating. I cried so much that I knocked out my immune system and got norovirus and Influenza A back to back. Every night I spent sick I dreamt of my hair falling out, and my blood pressure became so hypotensive that I still can’t really stand up without briefly losing my vision. I was so sick that I thought I might die and realized that I want to live! As soon as I started to regain some balance after being knocked off of my axis completely, the new year came; someone called ME ugly on January 1st and my dog died on January 2nd. Days later, my city burned, and days after that, the current administration was sworn into office.

I’m a rusher! I love love and when I feel something that’s even a little bit close I let my heart bleed all over anyone and anything. It almost feels like relief, like lancing an engorged blister or a great dane shaking off slobber in a tiny apartment. Days into dating this person, I added him to my A-list entourage, which is crazy. I had to see his name every time I booked a movie with a friend, which happened many times, because my friends took better care of me during this period than I have ever been taken care of by myself or anyone else I’ve ever known. They held me and let me cry and asked me questions and brought me dinner and told me I didn’t do anything wrong and that I can and should keep my heart open, because that’s all we are here to do. My friends are my family and they are the softest landing pad I could ask for. The day I got norovirus I was supposed to see the Interstellar IMAX re-release with my best friend, so she took me once I felt better and sat through it twice. I moved in December and by mid-January I still hadn’t been able to bring myself to unpack or build furniture or do anything to make my home feel good because without my dog everywhere felt like a waiting room. I ran some donations to Pasadena one day and came home to two of my friends unpacking my things and building my furniture for me.

Staying open and soft and hopeful in the face of heartbreak will be my life’s work. Though quite disorienting at first, it’s okay to be in flux and untethered. A beloved pet will die, a dream job will end, a best friend will move away, someone will break your heart. Instead of white-knuckling these moments waiting for a landing, it’s probably best to stop resisting and lean in – what goes up must eventually come down. I laid around until I wanted to get up and see loved ones and work out and take myself on my first walks without my dog. Trying to avoid the act of feeling will make you a monster. Heartbreak just feels bad everywhere.