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It was like tunnel vision; my heart sank, my chest tightened, and with a sudden pang, a wave of anxiety took over my body. It was a day from hell, and I desperately needed to clear my head. Ultimately, what I needed to accept is that she lives a completely different life than mine, therefore making our lives incomparable. Remember this solid piece of advice that a wise person once told me: "There's a reason you broke up." Honor that.
Alas, Bobby Goldman’s play suffers from such spotty wit and dated material that even Shepherd’s sparkling personality can’t burnish this 90 minutes to a comic sheen. She’s a TV and film actress whose gifts are perhaps best showcased in those mediums. After conquering the first obstacle of the day, I strutted confidently to the subway for the morning commute. The only thing I ended up losing was myself (and maybe my mind a little too). "Today would be the first of all days, where I would regain control of my life and sanity." Or so I thought. Or was it that my ego wouldn't allow me to be, because I kept getting the sense that I'd lost? There was no competition, no race to see which of us could move on or start dating first, aside from the one my ego created. When someone dies, it's unlikely we'll see them again (unless you're some sort of clairvoyant); however, when we break up with someone, they can still manage to find ways to haunt us.Just as I arrived at the machine to reload my Metro Card, I did a double take to my right, and there she was — "the Angel," plastered on the subway station wall. Suddenly, I felt a surge of intense energy rise from the pit of my stomach. We have a say in whether we want to keep these egoic demons company or send them off to the next dimension.
A look of sheer horror washed over my face as I stared into the perfect, parchment eyes of my replacement. When I arrived at work, I immediately started plugging away at the 20-plus emails awaiting replies. I worked at a well-known fashion magazine, and there was hardly any time for my mind to wander. What I thought was sure to have been vomit or tears burst out an uncontrollable, borderline painful laughter in the dark, by myself, as other runners whizzed by. There on that dark bridge, I made a promise to myself: accept it. It was then that I stopped caring, stopped comparing, stopped torturing myself for what I wasn't and what she was. The lesson I learned from this self-inflicted hell was if we are able to drop our weapons and honestly answer: what's really driving our unhappiness and inability to move on?