You let time pass. That’s the cure. You survive the days. You float like a rabid ghost through the weeks. You cry and wallow and lament and scratch your way back up through the months. And then one day you find yourself alone on a bench in the sun and you close your eyes and lean your head back and you realize you’re okay.
Sugar is a brilliant genius (and worth the hyperbole). DEAR SUGAR, The Rumpus Advice Column #60: The World Lit By Other People. - The Rumpus.net (via ayse)