Invincible Heart (or just very lucky)

I don't know why, lately, I have been so into stories of heartbreak or unrequited love, such as that told in Airborne Toxic Event's "Sometime Around Midnight," if I have never had my heart broken and probably never will.  I certainly have had crushes on various people and have even been very heavily infatuated before (because I don't think you can call it "in love" if the other person views you as merely an aquaintance) without having my desires fulfilled, and at those times it certainly seemed painful, however nowhere near as painful as it would be to completely lose something that could have been, such as in the movie Vanilla Sky and what pretty much happened in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind in its own bizarre way.  Sorry, that was a run-on sentence, but I'm too lazy to edit.

Basically, the first person I was in a real relationship with, I married, and it certainly looks to be a permanent arrangement.  I tried to break up with her once, and she tried to break up with me once (actually, twice, but the second time was really more like an ultimatum, like "you won't propose to me, therefore I'm breaking up with you," so I don't count that, because there was a known and controllable solution to the break-up).  But both times, somehow I was not all that affected by true emotional pain as I've heard expressed by others, both fictitious characters and real, meatspace people.  Maybe it was because I somehow subconsciously knew that it could not be over, that somehow, as cheesy as it sounds, we were fated to be together and, even if someone were to come from the future and try to break us up, the fabric of time would heal itself, and what was meant to be would happen anyway, to maybe even greater effect (like in The Butterfly Effect?).  I will write more about why I think this later, and no, it's not just because I'm a hopeless romantic- it has to do with how we met.  Maybe I just watch way too many movies.

But why, especially recently, am I so curious about the fragile and often-damaged human heart, if, technically, I should not be able to relate to real heartbreak?  I can really feel it, too, during that part of "Sometime Around Midnight" when he is leaving the bar, or the climactic guitar solo in "The Nurse Who Loved Me" by Failure.  I can even feel it when I listen to the string cover version of that by The Section Quartet.  I can feel it when Kate Winslet and Jim Carrey are in that collapsing beach house, in the dark, as the very last of his memories of their relationship is erased.  I can feel it as Jason Lee and Penelope Cruz ditch Tom Cruise on the darkened DUMBO street, leaving him alone with his delirious, drunken desperation.  I can feel it during the engagement party scene in (500) Days of Summer, where Tom's expectations are juxtaposed against the cold reality of Summer moving on without him.

Maybe I'm fascinated in it the same way I am fascinated, in a way, with death, or the end of the universe.  I have never experienced any of those things either (or, at least, the current iteration of myself has absolutely no recollection of them), but my curiosity about  the cessation of existence, of life as I know it, abounds.

Is this all just existential angst?