a thought that never changes remains a stupid lie.

New life, new purpose. New motivation, new outlook. New post, new title. Without prescribing to the self-inflicted prepositional phrases, we now have New Order lyrics to kick it off. Adjectival nouns abound: the pretentious might be your best bet yet.

My job is done; it’s all in the past. Looking back is sort of surreal, like a bad dream. The details of how it ended aren’t necessary; really, none of the detail is necessary. The bits that remain, the bitterness, the self-pity, all of it, are what I’m dealing with now. I want to put it all behind me, to move on without ever thinking about it again, but I find it impossible. I can’t really explain to anyone, even those who were in it with me, what I felt like. Every single day. Every second of every hour of every minute of those long, long months…

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