That morning, you woke up and your fists pounded into your pillow because it was the only way you could exacerbate your inner sadness, manifest it in just little ways. You walked across the bridge and sat on a bench overlooking the river valley, somehow wishing you had the balls to jump off. “That’ll show him,” you thought although realistically you knew it wouldn’t show him anything. He was perfect for you; he was your soulmate, your pea in a pod, the love of your life, your future husband, the groom at your imaginary wedding. You didn’t eat, you didn’t sleep, you didn’t think of a single thing except him. You couldn’t stop. And then you had him, and less than 72 hours later he shattered your heart into a million billion pieces and you had no idea where or how to begin reassembling them.
If you can make it through that two years of personal hell and anguish that were so great you had to physically change your appearance and struggle tirelessly every single day to actually change your life around just to make it somewhat better… you can make it through this. You can make it through anything after that. This is just another blip. It will pass quickly and soon it will be onto the next one. You have to remember that it’s always okay in the end. And if it’s not okay, it’s not the end. Never forget. And never give in. And never, ever, ever let someone treat you like a weak idiot ever again. You deserve better, and you’ll get better.