After this whole blowup with "guy I was actually going to take a chance on," I am not feeling quite as destroyed as my initial reaction on Saturday led me to believe I would. As a matter of fact, yesterday I had that same warm feeling all day that you get right before Christmas. It was strange.
I'm not sure if it is relief that the inevitable has happened (I hope not, because that outlook is much too hopeless for my age) or if it is just accelerated acceptance of the situation. The fact that I was given immediate and honest perspective by my two closest friends has been the most important thing so far--I don't know what kind of weird delusions I would be feeding myself right now if it weren't for them.
Despite everything I just said however, I know I have been deeply affected by the whole situation because of one thing: I can't eat. I haven't really eaten since brunch on Sunday, unless you count the granola bar that I literally choked down this morning before I left the house. I'm confused, because by all accounts I thought that post-breakup is when you are supposed to slam down gallons of ice cream and watch "Terms of Endearment" and wallow in your bed surrounded by stuffed animals. And it makes the angry that the one thing in that list I would actually WANT to participate in, I can't.
I also know that I've been hurt because when I was looking at my friend Kristina's pictures on Myspace, I ran across one of him and couldn't breathe for like a minute.
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