I pat myself on the shoulder as a sign that I did a good job on getting ‘over’ about  everything that has to do with him. In that party, where everyone is having a very nice time, is when I finally accepted that I was done. I’ve deluged myself for almost two years now about things that might actually mean nothing at all. It was only yesterday, when my friend asked me about him and I being in the party and why I haven’t said anything when I usually tell her stories about everything that’s happened after I see or talk to him, that I realized everything’s good.