There has been “something” nagging in the back of my mind. Since when, I cannot say. Is it since the 3rd of January, 2005? Before? No. It is afterwards. It's a felling of being... disconnected. Useless. At first I was afraid. Afraid to open my eyes. Just trying to get by until October, so that he could return and everything would be normal again. I worked every shift I could get my hands on, working 10 hours straight or 14 days in a row. Everything to exhaust me to the point of numbness. And numbness came, and it scared the shit out of me. October came, went, and everything remained the same...

I've been trying so hard to find some meaning in my life in the wake of his absence, to regain some focus. He is not coming back. Not soon, I mean. So the best I can do is take it in the chin, and do nothing but the fucking best that I can do. I miss being proud of myself.

This is that “something” crystallized:
Love is not attached to a cyclical clock.
It is time to turn the page.

Epiphany courtesy of Mr Blue (via Paul Auster's “Ghosts”) and Chris's “Deceive us”.
Cheers, mates!

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