I haven't cried since we said goodbye. Not one tear.
I haven't moped around in my pajamas. I haven't consumed vast amounts of sugar.
I haven't listened to whiny rock, ooh baby's, because I'm stronger's or lost without you's.
I didn't throw out any of the stuff you gave me, I like it, you have good taste. Nor did I stow it away in a shoe box, between layers of tissue paper, sealed with kisses.
I haven't pined, or sighed, or gazed out the window with wistful eyes.
I am thinner, but I'm pretty sure that it's because I refused to eat the airport food.
I've always been pale.
I don't think I've been irreparably damaged.
And I'm fairly certain that after an appropriate amount of time, I will fall in love again.
Furthermore I will be entirely sure that I've really never felt this way before/ everything was worth it to get to this point/ that my life will never be the same.
So it goes.
However, given a choice, I would gladly be put onto ice, left undisturbed for a few weeks. Months.