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A month later, I have a nervous breakdown.

A few friends and relatives pool their money and send me to Isla Mujeres in Mexico so I can get some relief from the pain. There, a vacationing Swiss therapist holds my hair and comforts me on the beach as I sob and vomit grief and tequila.

When I return, I cut my heart, my hope, and my trust loose. They are gone.

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