Breaking up is hard to do

It's hard when you know that across town, in a cozy little apartment, there is a man, a really good man, with curly hair and a smile to melt your heart, who is crying himself to sleep over you.

It's even harder to realize that you cannot quite, although you really, really try, muster up the same sort of qualifying sadness that prevents unwelcome thoughts such as 'if I eat this banana at 11 o'clock, will I have nightmares?' and, 'is it cold enough to wear socks to bed?' from creeping into your mind.

Breaking up is hard to do. But I think the knowledge that you're going to be fine, that you're going to be better, is even harder.