I’m waiting to recover from him, like an illness, I tell myself over and over again that it’s just going to take some time to get him out of my system. It’s like detoxing, I intone, I’ve got to be able to stop loving because I managed to quit smoking. The sadness will subside, the longing ease with time, and in the end, I’ll stop feeling like I’m sitting at the bottom of a deep well, denying myself a glimpse of the light.
