Some events in life prompt us to reach into the vast ether in an attempt to forge a connection, be it superficial, one sided or genuine. Shitty break ups are one of those events.
Suffice to say this is not going to be a mournful account of should-have-beens and what-ifs. The aim here is to express at least a little melancholy while occupying a similar genre to the lovesick protagonist of High Fidelity, for example. This is going to be my getting dumped (and duped) with a grain of salt.
I'd like to start off by saying that doing anything in life ever with one part of you performing under par is not impossible. It does, however, make everything more difficult, tedious and shitty. It is possible to walk up stairs with crutches and a sprained ankle, but fuck does it ever suck! And it's possible to go to work, get dressed, have conversations, eat and sleep with a broken heart but for some reason shit is just plain harder.
I like to think it's similar to this video clip but with all things forever until you stop feeling like a flaming bag of poop. Best of luck to ya.
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