do I realize just how much of my life I’ve wasted in various kinds of emotional collapse. What if I’d been less sentimental in general, had spent less time prostrate on beds with pillows over my head?
Days, weeks, months being heartsick, or depressed, or angry, essentially dysfunctional, unproductive, even regressive.
If I’d been a stoic, I’d have also been more prolific.
But I guess that’s what happens. You are who you are, you can’t get the time back, and at those actual moments, it was all I could do to simply survive.