Cures for the Broken-Hearted

Option #1: LAZINESS

Sleep. Sleep it off. Wake up and do not attempt to brush teeth, comb hair, cover up depression zits that have popped up overnight, and eat only food items with the nutritional value of cardboard.

Listen to: re-runs of old Bill Maher podcasts, Paul Anka's cover of REM's Everybody Hurts, and the footsteps of your emotionally less unstable family prancing about and enjoying their lives above your head.

Wear: nothing, when in your room or when the house is empty. Or, slip on your least flattering pair of sweats, old drama club T-shirt, and mismatched footsie socks.

Do: flip through the pages of old Seventeen magazines, stare at the same happy kitten on your computer, look at the dog and wonder if he knows your heart is shattered.

Option #2: BITCHINESS

Anger--that's the ticket. So many people believe that depression is just anger without energy, anyway, so let's give that depression some juice and let the sparks fly! Furiously clip your fingernails, paint them, read raging feminist books, and try your best to literally claw any rebellious tears from your eyelids before they can drip down your face and give them away.

Listen to: Alanis, Tori, Regina, Sinead, Sheryl, Fiona, and, just for good measure, all Nine Inch Nails songs comparing sex with death.

Snap at everyone, too, and roll your eyes. You're fine, quit asking. Have a list of topics readily available to bring up in case the subject meanders to your broken-heartedness. Good topics include the Vietnam War, the current health care reform, and Zac Efron's butt.

Do: find something to scrub... or torch... or break.

OPTION #3: DO NOTHING, BECAUSE IN A MATTER OF DAYS, YOU'LL BE SLIDING BACK DOWN THAT SLIPPERY SLOPE, ANYWAYS.

I know none of this probably makes sense, and I'm trying my best to be cryptic to protect not only myself, but the other party in my broken-heartedness. This is simply recorded as a veiled journal entry, something for me to one day look back on, remember the circumstances, and either cite them as the catalyst for my institutionalization, or chuckle fondly at the hard times and smile gratefully at the good fortune I have.