Variable 'Ex'

 

You know what’s awesome? The post-apocalyptic state that follows you after getting dumped. I know because I was dumped X ago, and procrastination times sadness, divided by zero-self-confidence was the equation haunting me twenty-five hours a day. 

The post-apocalyptic state has a lot to offer - endless thoughts of variable ‘ex’ and his next girlfriend, and Y amount of time accomplishing nothingness while entangled in a dream of variable ‘ex’ showing up on a horse, or something. At least that’s what it offered me, and this is what I did to convince my brain to come back:

One night, while obsessing over my newly-developed insecurities about not being able to pick tomatoes at required speed level, and chasing toddlers in a two-storey house, I opened up this program on my laptop that gives you electronic sticky notes. I first clicked on a yellow one, and I typed the crucially important things I had to do, like pay my phone bill and make wicked study notes for my exam (which was tomorrow, at the time) for the ONLY course I was taking at school.

Then I clicked on a pink sticky note and wrote things that were somewhat related to my physical health and well-being. I wrote things like wake up by eleven, and a reminder to take my multi-vitamin pill on a daily fricken’ basis. As a matter of fact, I woke up the next day and took one despite the unbearable torture it put my throat through as it tried to slide down to take shelter in my system – its gigantic size reminded me why I stopped taking it in the first place. The only other downfall is I took it on an empty stomach and almost threw up half an hour later. Talk about tough pills to swallow.

Aside from electronic sticky notes and whatnot, I changed my thought patterns too. I ignored my slightly visible deformities and focused on my okay smile thanks to orthodontics and crest whitestrips. Not to mention, I bought myself a sexy white fur coat that cost about X and spent seven hours at the hairdresser stripping out the artificial black hair I had since the age of sixteen. Also, I implanted in my subconscious the plan to marry a witty, bad-ass son of a b**** and I believed it too.

Suddenly, warm and fuzzy feelings appeared in my little heart, and I lived happily ever after turned into an independent variable.