love will solve all your problems. love will only let you down.
It’s 2 am. We’re sitting in Chloe’s room, and her and her boyfriend of four years have just broken up. She is crying. Jacqueline looks up from the floor and says, “Well Chloe, just look at Ramona. She moves down here, ain’t got no man, ain’t got no friends, ain’t got no job.” The implication of this seems to be that I am the canary. No one need worry until I slit my wrists. The implication of this seems to be that people can convince themselves of almost anything.
The serotonin is flooding your brain. It’s trapped in the synapse bumping into receptors again and again, but it feels nothing like falling in love. I guess they’ve gotta give you zoloft and keep you off the ketamine because of the “increased addictive potential.” Someone in a psychology class once asked if you could freebase Wellbutrin. Right. I’ll tell you what’s addictive. Listening to your ex-boyfriend’s songs, walking around town concocting elaborate reunion scenarios never fully played out, always being a passenger in cars, sun-drenched kitchens filled with knives, Dolce and Gabbana in the garbage and Patty Griffin on the stereo, and thinking that having opinions makes you a real person.
Feeling bad can can feel dangerously good, which is why it’s unfair to be too pragmatic at the beginning of a breakup, because don’t you need to wallow just a little? And so I entertained Chloe’s woes for a full 48 hours and let her know she can have 48 more on me.