How to get over someone you love. Write about it. Read love poems. Read about lost love and ache that you could never put your emotions so eloquently. Read Sylvia Plath and cry. Listen to Buckley’s Hallelujah. Take a long walk along the coast, or just along the Embankment. Sleep. Sleep in. Sleep for days. Lie in an extravagant fort built by your tired hands after you stayed up late picking out the double entendres from his texts; how a semi-colon meant love and a full stop meant he stopped loving you. Throw a book against a wall. Don’t throw a mug (you’ll regret it). Visit a zoo and say cliché things to yourself, like, at least I’m only a prisoner of my own emotions not a prisoner of four walls. Listen to your friends when they say: “it will be OK,” or that “time heals all wounds”. I mean, it might not and time doesn’t, but just nod anyway. Be grateful that they are there for every time you call them to cry, or sob or want to drink until you wake up with the casual taste of disdain and regret in your mouth. Smile. Breathe deep. Take up yoga and knitting and please, please don’t forget to eat. Go to Selfridges and try on the most ridiculous ball gown you can find. Sleep around. Don’t sleep with anyone. Retrace your memory over the moles on his face that form a triangle across his cheek. Run a marathon, even if it’s just for Breaking Bad. Be nice to a stranger. Call your mum. Be wild. Don’t let yourself degenerate into a machine for making money. You’ll learn more by giving yourself a little freedom. Wake up one day and decide you don’t want to feel like this anymore, or ever again, and then change. Just like that. Replace fear of the unknown with curiosity. Go to a bloody library for once. Educate yourself. Don’t chase him. Work hard.