My breakup was boring. My breakup was uneventful. My breakup was the reason I didn’t get out of bed today. My breakup was the source of much of my anxiety. My breakup was the reason I stopped talking to my best friend, who caused my breakup in the first place. My breakup was good for me. My breakup was like my guardian angel, the thing that totally rescued me from a life in hell. My breakup meant that I couldn’t go to school feeling right anymore. My breakup meant school sucked. My breakup was most difficult at work, where I still saw my ex-boyfriend everyday. My breakup was the opposite of smooth. My breakup was like a long cold shower, but I got over it as soon as I dried off. My breakup left me staring out my window for long periods of time. My breakup made me very moody. My breakup made me feel so shitty. My breakup was expedited by the fact that she started dating someone else almost immediately after we broke up. My breakup happened twice. My breakup affected my mental state. My breakup made me sad. My breakup made me miss a lot of work. My breakup was exactly what I needed, only I hadn’t realized it before. My breakup impacted my lifestyle. My breakup cost me two friendships. My breakup left me high and dry. My breakup was, for about ten years, the most significant part of my life, I couldn’t think about anything else but my breakup—and him. My breakup was the bitter medicine I needed. My breakup was overwhelming. My breakup was freedom. My breakup was heaven. My breakup was the worst.