A few months ago, my girlfriend dumped me after exactly a year of dating. When she said her feelings had changed, it felt like getting drop-kicked in the chest 345 times. Like being tied to a chair and forced to watch The Room on repeat for 30 hours straight. Or worse — stepping barefoot onto a Lego minefield. In simpler words: it hurt like hell. At home the tears blurred the room until the world was a browser page: 404 — happiness not found. I hovered over her old texts, staring at those good morning messages, realizing I’d probably never get another. it had hardly been sixty minutes, and I was missing her just like Walter White Jr. misses his breakfast. Don't mess with my breakfast And then came the 3 AM spiral. Her words coiled around my brain like a snake tightening on its prey. I scrolled through her pictures, sometimes even stalking her page for a glimpse of… what, comfort? Did it help? Not at all. It was like stabbing myself and then asking the knife to hug me. The wor...