"I'm over it," is supposed to end a conversation. It sounds definitive, after all. Something you did or was done to you caused the kind of ire that makes you forget the universe is largely indifferent to our squabbles and everything is going to look a lot dimmer in the rear view mirror of time. You announce all mature and adult-like in the way you think movie stars and sociopaths do that you are "over it." That "it" whatever "it" is done and no longer part of your life and you no longer drive past "it's" house on Thursday evenings just to see if "it's" home. Because it's dead, done and buried, and it won't trouble you anymore. Which, OK, I suppose maybe for about (I'll be generous) 20 percent of the population this is true.
But it's not that simple. It's never that simple. For the rest of us, nobody is over anything. Ever.
Case in point: John Edwards' delusional former mistress and mother of his youngest child, Rielle Hunter and recently ousted White House correspondent for Politico, Joe Williams.