I made me realise how far I've come. How fucking weird a a breakup really is, how it affects you body and soul. You start of thinking you will never ever be OK again. Never laugh, love or live.
But somehow, against all odds, your survival instinct kicks in.
Yes, the thought of him still gives me that sinking feeling, but at least I'm not chain smoking, crying hysterically and gulping for air. I don't feel like I'm falling down a pitch black pit of darkness. Rather than falling I'm walking along a long road, unsure of the destination but more sure of myself.
I obviously still feel sad. It's mourning, at the end of the day. And I do find myself humming along to "Never ever" by All Saints (the 90s has been my breakup drug of choice).
But yeah, I have managed to get myself together to a certain extent.
Now, on to the rest of it. Like loosing loads of weight, cutting my hair, discovering new cities and making new friends. Piece of cake (cake I can't have).
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