To never experience heartbreak, take your heart from your chest of skin and bone and place it instead into a chest of wood. Take a lock and wrap it three times around the wooden chest, careful not to let any sunlight through the splintered boards. Wrap a cloth around the chest to block out any fresh air. Bury it in a sparse field, surrounded by mud and kept in the damp, away from the fresh scent of flowers or the buzzing of bees. Make sure that the birds cannot see it from where they are, soaring so high above in the sky.
To make sure you have no heartbreak, check your soul to make sure that there are no pieces of your heart still left remaining. Make sure to join a legion of the heartless, where compassion is dead and sympathy is but a forgotten word. And make sure to wear nothing but a cloak of bitterness, a veil of shame. Make sure to place mud on your eyes so that you do not see the world anymore.
To avoid heartbreak, have no heart to be broken.
If you want to truly live, make sure you take the heart from the chest of wood, keep it near your soul. Live each day and get hurt sometimes, so that tears streak down your face on occasion and wipe the mud away from your eyes. See what the entire world has to offer you, what people are in it, for if one likes you in a hundred thousand, then surely there’s another person to care for you in the next batch of a hundred thousand. Find comfort in your art, no matter who does or doesn’t see it. Find comfort in your music no matter if anyone hears it or if only you have the ability to. Let yourself be seen by others than yourself, to be captured in image by more items than just your bedroom mirror. Allow your words to be immortalized in print or stone. Allow your creations of math, science, language, or any other to be illuminated by the brightest lights of cyberspace, by the torch of the moon and the rays of the sun.
If you want to let your heart heal, take it out of the darkness of the box.
And create the greatest thing you possibly can before the moment passes.