I wanted to blame someone, but there was no one, it was purely an accident. Which is why I was sitting here blaming myself, feeling guilty for feeling...alive. I listened as the others spoke of their experiences, their feelings of loss, grief, and guilt. I made my way down Market Street with Rachel, another woman I’d met from the group. We were consumed in conversation, when I noticed a taller guy crossing the street to the left of me, and I thought for sure it was Eric. I paused in mid sentence. Ithought, "You're referring to these breasts?" But I said: "You mean myboobs will sag? Oh wow."Janet noticed the difference in my speech to and remarked that when shecursed someone, she really did a number on them. I was fuming at howcasually she was taking all of this, but all I could manage to say was,"I hate you." And then I burst into tears. Clearly my emotions wereaffected as well. Oh and anger never registers on my face. I just get apretty pout.A month went by. Then two. Then three. I. More

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