Moving on...but how?

The sun is shining. The birds are singing. It's one of those ridiculously perfect spring days- nothing there to remind of the devastation ripping through my insides. Apart from my apartment,that is, and my self-imposed exile from the world. The floor flooded with take away-boxes and clothes I don't even remember wearing.  Being on first-name basis with your local pizza delivery people. The window sill littered with cigarette boxes. Empty cigarette boxes. (No wonder then my throat feels like a marching band of cactuses (cactai?) has moved in...) The bed left crumpled by the fact that I haven't bothered to get up in days. 

Do you know how long it takes before your hair starts spontaneously turning into dreadlocks? I do,now. 3 days. For once, I'm happy I don't have a job to go to, to make myself presentable and pretend to be happy and sociable. On the other hand, it's yet another sad reminder of how I'm not wanted anywhere. How on earth did I get to this? No job, no love, no money and absolutely no prospects in life? My life was supposed to be gorgeous- not George Constanza! 

I did have a job once. But more on that later. And with it, money. (Just ask eBay and those lovely obliging people at Visa- their loss is no doubt greater than mine...) Most importantly,I used to have love. A man I thought I'd spend the rest of my life with. To the point that I, blinded by the feeling of all-conquering-love (and 3 Strongbows AND a triumphant victory over Liverpool) actually got down on one knee and tears bursting out everywhere proposed to him.

Now,you'd think that hearing "no" would be the most humiliating response. Or that nasty, prolonged, awkward pause which is usually followed by that very "no". Let me tell you kids: it isn't. It is that awkward silence followed by "what do you think you're doing?". Followed by equally charming "do get off the floor". 

So, now I'm supposed to move on? And like him, pretend none of that ever happened? The gut-wrenching fact is that I don't know how. If that classic theory on getting over taking half of the length of the actual relationship is true... Then this is what my life will be for the next 3 years and a few unfortunate months. And that's not a nice prospect. Not to my mental health OR my waistline.

So, stay tuned. Let's start that journey...