Why losing love is a gift为什么失恋是一种礼物

My boyfriend and I broke up on New Year’s Day. For two days, I moped around feeling sorry for myself and thinking this was a sign from the gods of what 2013 has in store for me. I walked around Peking University’s campus recalling the memories that we had together – the plays and concerts we saw at the school theater, our first date by the lake, the sweet potatoes he always brought home for me to eat. As pictures of our happy memories flooded my mind, my mouth began to quiver behind the facemask I wear.

Tears streamed down my face and I wiped them away quickly with my scarf. I was walking along in this state of self-pity when a voice from within spoke to me. The voice of my experiences told me that there are much worse things in life to lose than love. At first, I was angry at this voice. My heart felt as though it might shatter into a million pieces at any moment.  How can there be something worse than heartbreak?

In my delirium of not having slept and barely eaten for two days, I tried to form some rational thoughts. In my head, I flipped open my book of memories. One page pictured my friend in Sichuan. We’d often spend the weekends at her grandfather’s home in the countryside. During the winter days we crowded by a small space heater in his humble bedroom, where the grey walls were defaced with holes, telephone numbers and names. I watched as my friend handed him sunflower seeds and fruit, only for them to fall to the ground due to the uncontrollable shaking of his worn, tired hands. Despite my friend being a nurse, her grandfather was losing a battle to Parkinson’s because they couldn’t afford proper medical care.

Also in my book of memories, I saw my students in Bazhong, all of whom lost their childhood, their most precious years, to the inside of a classroom. They study around the clock in the faint hope of removing themselves and their family from a life of poverty.

I flipped back to my time in Africa and saw kids who lost their friends and family to AIDS and Malaria, and were likely to one day lose their own life too. On my most recent page, I saw my friends from the Model United Nation’s club at Peking University. Every Friday night, we meet to discuss cases that are presented before the International Court of Justice. As I listen to China’s most brilliant students debate over whether Germany has the right to state sovereignty in its case against Italy, I am both amazed and saddened. I wonder if this club is the closest they’ll come to their dream of representing China on the world’s political stage. I wonder what it must be like to lose the right to have your voice heard.

When I flip through my book of memories, I realize I am so fortunate that my worst problem is losing love. Beijing is colder now that there is no one to hold my hand. The city is lonelier now that I have lost my best friend and my other ones are thousands of miles away. But I keep reminding myself: losing love is indeed a gift.

我和我男友在新年那天分了手。我闷闷不乐了整整两天，并且觉得这是神给我的一个2013年一年的不好的预示。我在北京大学的校园内漫步，回忆着我们共同的曾经，我们一起在学校剧院看的话剧和音乐会，我们在未名湖畔的第一次约会，他常常从家里给我带来的烤红薯。当这些美好画面在我脑海充斥时，我的嘴角开始在口罩后颤抖。眼泪顺着我的脸颊流下，我赶快用围巾擦掉。我用这种自哀自怜的心情在路上走着，一个声音出现在我脑海告诉我有很多事比失恋要糟糕的多。起初我对这个想法很生气。我现在的感觉就像心脏被撕成碎片，怎么会有事情比这感觉更糟糕。

在经历了睡不着觉，吃不下东西的两天后，我开始试着去理性看待这件事情。我在脑海中回忆起一些经历。我有一个四川的朋友，我们曾经一起去她住在乡下的爷爷家过周末。时值冬日，我们挤在只有一个小电暖器的房间里，爷爷简陋的卧室墙壁上还有很多小洞和涂鸦的电话及名字。我看到我朋友帮她的爷爷捧着葵花籽和一些水果，因为爷爷那粗糙疲劳的双手无法控制的颤抖着。尽管我的朋友是一名护士，她爷爷得了帕金森却无法治疗，因为他没有医疗保险。我又想起我在巴中的学生，他们失去了童年，那些最宝贵的年华。他们坐在教室里为了自己家庭摆脱穷困而努力学习。我又想起了我在非洲的经历。那些失去家人朋友的有爱滋病和疟疾的孩子们不知哪天连自己生命也会失去。我又想起我在北大模拟联合国社团遇到的朋友。我们每周五晚开会讨论那些国际法庭正在讨论的案件。当我听到这些中国最出色的学生讨论着德国在对于意大利的案件上是否有主权时，我感到既惊讶又难过。我猜想这个社团是否最能体现出这些学生要代表中国在世界政治舞台上的梦想。我怀疑这是不是意味着他们失去了自己的声音被听到的权利。

回忆完这些经历后，我意识到只拥有失恋这个问题的自己是多么的幸运。 虽然没有人牵着我的手，北京变的更冷，失去一个好朋友，其他的朋友又在千里之外也让我更孤独，但是我提醒自己：失恋确实是一个礼物。