This must be how Dexter feels in Season 2. Actually, that's a bit of an insult to him. Surely his tendencies are more sociopathic than mine. But I'm sure it's still comparable. Having feelings where before there was none. It's not fair to say there were none, but I was beginning to wonder why the only tears I'd shed were guilt induced. I felt like this was the truth. This had to be done. The sadness I felt was for how I'd treated you; all that I'd put you through, and still put you through.

I understand now. I should've known all along. That's what I do with tough emotions. I lock them up so deep inside that they seem to not exist at all. Like when Buddy was missing. I didn't cry until the day my old landlord called and said I might still have a chance to get him back. He had been lost for a month and a half. That's what's happening now. I've only started to realize the loss in the last few days. Yesterday, it hit, hard. Today I had to fight it from happening while at my desk. The pain. Oh the pain. The clenching in my chest. It's not the guilt. It's not the fear of what I will do on my own. It's the loss. The realization that I will never again have what we had. Or, at least, that I will never again have it with you.

So, I just did something I know is a mistake, but I don't care. I spent the last of my money on a couple beer. If it helps me feel better, and it won't, but if it does, it will only be temporary. Drowning emotions, with a depressant at that, only makes the pain worse later. I'm comfortable with my decision, even if it ensures the sadness will persist tomorrow.

To look at the bright side, I'm still not depressed. Genuine sadness, like all genuine and justified feelings, deserves it place, and needs to be felt to be surmounted. As long as I don't plummet into a pit of despair and worthlessness, unable to take the small but positive steps forward, things will be fine.

Four years ago I got home from a Liverpool reunion of sorts and argued with a friend about the length of his relationship.