that is simultaneously completely and totally depressed, convinced I made a terrible, horrible, awful, gut-wrenching mistake, angry at men specifically, the world in general, and convinced I will never date or fall in love again.

It is not, in a word, pretty.

I know, intellectually, how to wrest myself from this state (exercise, healthy food, meditation, throwing myself into work), but instead I haven’t left the couch in 48 hours, eaten absolutely nothing plant based, and failed miserably at anything other than reading books about character and discipline interrupted by thoughts about him and this sickening, overwhelming sense of loss and loneliness.

I hate breakups.  I hate them, I hate them, I hate them.