breaking-up

Rules are made to be broken, but hearts are broken to be made.It is a big miracle to be loved "because" of your inadequacies, not "despite" them. And nothing can be as fascinating as walking tall on the same road that once witnessed your fall.

Know this: whenever you think of leaving, a part of you has already left. But it__ never too late to get it back.

Two words. Three vowels. Four constenants. Seven letters. It can either cut you open to the core and leave you in ungodly pain or it can free your soul and lift a tremendous weight off you shoulders. The phrase is: It's over.

You see herand ascend into love. You become enchanted, a found madman. In your love,you lose yourself and become her. You were once without her, now with her. You still feel her and descend into love. You become enraptured, a lost madman. In your love,you lost yourself and her. You were once with her, nowwithout her.

When you look back at that relationship you didn't think you could live without and realize had you stayed in it, you'd be some comfortable loser, sitting on the couch with another comfortable loser, instead of being the dope motherfucker you are today.

Love, the exotic bird, came and went.Heart forgot love.Joy, the majestic willow, wept and died.Mind forgot joy.Hope, the basement lamp, fell and broke.Soul forgot hope.Self, the anxious caterpillar, took flight and dropped.Self forgot self.You, my all, became all my reasons.Reasons left.You left.I never forgot.

Even on my weakest daysI get a little bit stronger

He looks like a runway model. How in the world am I going to be able to reject that? The world is so unfair. Seriously, it's like turning Brad Pitt down for a date. The girl who could actually do it should win an award for idiot of the century.

Bittersweet? No, just bitter, the taste of your tongue.Words you can__ have back, so they linger.

Realize your true strength when people reject you. In actual fact, they do not reject you. They only show you your real strength

The actuality that the heart does not want to feel, doesn't negate the certitude that it once felt and will still feel.

Moving on is easy. It's staying moved on that's trickier.

to do list (after the breakup)1. take refuge in your bed2. cry. till the tears stop (this will take a few days).3. don__ listen to slow songs.4. delete their number from your phone even though it is memorized on your fingertips.5. don__ look at old photos.6. find the closest ice cream shop and treat yourself to two scoops of mint chocolate chip. the mint will calm your heart. you deserve the chocolate.7. buy new bed sheets.8. collect all the gifts, t-shirts, and everything with their smell on it and drop it off at a donation center.9. plan a trip.10. perfect the art of smiling and nodding when someone brings their name up in conversation.11. start a new project.12. whatever you do. do not call.13. do not beg for what does not want to stay.14. stop crying at some point.15. allow yourself to feel foolish for believing you could__e built the rest of your life in someone else__ stomach.16. breathe.

This does not escape my notice, it is a context. I resent the fact of a context; my social status has shifted and no one is going to acknowldege it, that´s certain. I´m expected to be Brave and Rise Above. I dress for the role; I must look far better now that I did when I was married. I must look pulled together into a nice tight Hermès knot of self-containment. I don´t make the rules; I just do my best to follow them.

There is that, and there is also the Irreconcilable Differences line. It seems so catchall, so vague. You could say that about anyone, any man and woman at all. Jesus and Mary Magdalene: "Irreconcilable Differences." JFK and Jackie, anyone at all. It´s built into the man-woman thing. What kind of paltry reason is that? "Insanity" is another box to be checked on the divorce petition, the only alternative to "Irreconcilable Differences." I would like to check it.

To keep myself from harming or calling N and to stave off the rage and despair, I focus on my extraordinary son, drink midrange Chardonnay every night after he is asleep, and make a barrage of late-night mail-order retail purchases placed from the couch. The couch has officially become my second battle station. I am angry and I have credit And I´m all blackened inside; I should wear a pointy witch hat around Larkspur as I go to the bank and drop A off at day care. It would be more honest.

Naturally, I do blame Françoise. I blame her for having N in the first place. She was young, she was beautiful, she was married to a doctor, and she was intelligent. She could have abstained from producing her first son. It was wrong on a variety of levels.

Although I notice there is never a truly good time to have a nice long chat with one´s mother-in-law, unless you are having an extraordinary life and marriage and your mother-in-law is, say, Maureen Dowd, or Indira Gandhi. Someone of that ilk.