"Love lost is still love. It takes a different form, that's all. You can't
see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a
dance floor. But when those senses weaken, another heightens. Memory. Memory
becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it. Life has
to end. Love doesn't."
Mitch Albom
Anger is a mould that crushes and reshapes your backbone into a slouch; the good thing is that you might heal, but only if you manage to leave it behind. The question might be, how do you?
When disappointment nestles in your chest and weighs down so heavily it crushes all but a minimal amount of air in your lungs, is it really worth it? God, I hate the dull throbbing behind my eyes.
Tell us, tell us how to break out of the mould.
But I think the question really is, do you want to?
I don't know, I still don't know.
Because all too often, I'm disgusted by myself. And you.