Remember that time my best friend stopped talking to me, my apartment flooded, I became homeless, and then my boyfriend and I broke up? That was, like, the most fun I've ever had.
Self pity is a marvelous luxury, one that I have indulged in often. Right now, I want to hide in bed (if I had access to my bed) and wallow in it, along with some chocolate ice cream. But it isn't productive, and it's just not as fun as it used to be.
When things fall apart, what do mature, well-balanced people do? I am now going to do my best imitation of one of those people. Just as soon as I'm done crying and breaking things.