It's a start.

So much can change in thirty days, I said out loud, as clouds of
exhaust enveloped my tiny, frozen car. I sat anxiously awaiting a
change of the light from red to green, wanting to put some much needed
distance between the words he and I had just spoken. The roads were
painted white from snow and ice and salt. The frost was becoming a
permanent window decoration making everything beyond it slightly
fuzzy, maybe surreal.

I had spent so long attempting to convince myself of his unworthiness,
so long exaggerating my hatred for him. And then something clicked.
Some other part of me began to combat my carefully conceived defense.
Words that I never knew I'd felt and still don't believe I do, started
to exit recklessly from my mouth. A month later, when my doubts became
some sort of twisted reality, I could not stop or go backwards or take
any of it back.

Suddenly, I was sitting next to him on a plane. He held my hand
tightly like he knew that if he let go, I'd disappear. My eyes bore
deeply into the seat back in front of me, a frightened smile
decorating my face. I wasn't living a lie, just a delusion that was
without an exit. I was playing a role I never had before. As the plan
gained altitude, I considered whether or not there was any difference
between true happiness and contrived happiness. By the time the plane
had roughly skidded to a stop on the tarmac, I was determined to make
it all work.

Many things can happen in a month, you can cut your hair off and
increase your future net worth by an even one billion.