How do you do it?

I’ve done my share of dating, which means I’ve also had my share of breakups. For the vast majority of these, I’ve been the dumped party. Over and over again. I’ve then had to see those women go on with their lives, go to classes, go to work, walk around and live and breathe–and I’ve always wondered, how do you do it? Because when you’re the dumped party, it is sometimes unfathomable that the world should go on in the wake of your pain. How do you do it? How do you laugh, and smile, and go on with your life when you’ve done this to me?

And now that I’ve done the breaking, I finally know the answer.

I do it by sobbing to my therapist every week.

I do it by throwing myself into work.

I do it by buying a twelve pack every week and supplementing it with whiskey shots on Saturdays.

I do it by yelling at my cats for being cats and then worrying I’m turning into someone I don’t like.

I do it by avoiding eye contact.

I do it by never saying your name.

I do it by always saying your name.

I do it by forgetting nothing.

I do it by remembering against my will.

I do it by slowing down as I drive on the streets some corner of my heart associates with you.

I do it by replaying all the conversations even though I can’t change the way any of them ended.

I do it by throwing out things you gave me.

I do it by keeping things you drew for me.

I do it by staring at every greyhound I see.

I do it by laughing, and crying, and feeling guilty, and getting mad, and wishing, and hoping, and regretting, and wanting.

I do it every day and then I go to sleep and wake up and do it again.

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