Grief Has No Point, and Neither Does This

Going through a breakup is raw. It's hard to put lipstick on a piglet. It's the kind of thing that makes you cry in a Safeway parking lot over a rotisserie chicken you're now buying for one, and also, somehow, still miss the person who bought chicken with you before he betrayed you the way Taylor Farms lettuce just betrayed everyone who trusted it, and it turns out there was a parasite in it the whole time. The relationship and the bag of greens. And in a long and undistinguished tradition of bad decisions made while emotionally compromised, I've decided the correct response is to put mine on the internet. Not because my heartbreak is special. It isn't. That's the whole spiel, actually. We all go through some version of this, being wronged and grieving the wrongdoer, or what the wrongdoer stood for, anyway, so consider this an invitation to go through it together, or a warning, depending on how you feel about a grown woman openly grieving a basement full of unlit candles.