I wish I could draw out why I appear to be crying less than he is, or dealing with this “better” than he is.
What I’d draw would be a comic of a woman and a man giving their hearts to each other. Even though cracks accidentally happen in each heart, that’s normal. No heart is ever left completely perfect and pristine.
But a few years into the relationship, he starts being careless with it. He drops her heart; it cracks further and a piece chips off. This happens again and again. He drops it, sits on it, leaves it in the rain… Pieces keep chipping off and the cracks get deeper.
Every time it happens, she cries; it hurts, after all. She asks him to be more careful. He promises he will be… But he just isn’t.
Until finally, she asks for it back. She tells him she’s going to take it back, and why, and gives him time to gather all the little pieces that she hasn’t already picked up for herself. But nothing he does to try to repair her heart sticks. He can fix anything… except this.
When she asks for her heart back, and hands him his own, they’re both a little clumsy and drop them. Now he has a broken heart, a new sensation, and he grieves over it.
But she’s been living with a broken heart for years.