1. Tell yourself, everyday, not to fall in love.

or

a. Fall in love with things that won’t break you

or

b. Fall in love in muted shades of grey, in whitewashed hues that neither mimic nor ape nor counterfeit whatever true love is purported to be, but keep it at a distance and blur it from your vision, lest it cloud your senses, shadow your every thought.

or

c. Fall in love and survive it. Like nuclear fallout.

2. Optimize heartbreak. Reach a steady state. Heartbreak can be a factor input like any other in the production of your ultimate life goals. Use it. Have your heart broken enough times to know how strong it is. Stop before your heart runs out of all the love it has to offer. Resources are scarce.

3. Survive nuclear fallout. This is easier than it sounds, but harder than it looks. First, is the bomb. The prerequisite blast. Live through this and you will look back. Live through this and look at your life like an atom crumpling in on itself, a microcosm of netherworld existence simply unfurling and un-becoming itself. The fallout happens underneath your fingernails, underneath the first layer of person you shed every month. It grows in stem cells, like chronic unhappiness, like terminal dissatisfaction. The bomb is the person. The blast is for when you fall. The fallout is the fallout, because this is a metaphor that explains itself.

Therefore,

a. Don’t believe in metaphors. Only real things — like bones and bodies and how they fit with each other — can save you.

And so,

b. Let yourself be saved.

or

c. Lose yourself.

Then

d. Find yourself, all over again.