If I’m just sick, then I can take some aspirin, get some sleep, and I’ll feel better. I’ll be me again. Eventually. But if I admit I’m crushed, if I acknowledge that my heart has been shattered into a thousand fucking shards…then I don’t known when I’ll ever be all right again. Maybe never.
So I get back into bed. To wait it out.
Till I’m over the flu.

Auteur: Emma Chase