In the end, it’s every man fending for himself. I have to focus on myself, feeling good without needing anybody else. I have to make myself happy before anyone else can make me happy.
It still hurts to think of him; eating lunch with him on Saturday was the biggest of tortures yet the sweetest of reliefs. But every day is getting better. Eventually he’ll be out of my mind, or at least out of my heart. I’ll be good again.
Can’t wait.
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