Byron

Shields called me and left a message with my mum. I... uh... I really don't know what to tell you. I'm not okay. But no, i'm not thinking about following him... so i guess i'm somewhere in the middle. somewhere in between complete mental break down and the fetal position. i just hope sabre's alright. i mean i don't know if they were still going out or what, but i know this must be killing her too. i couldn't bear it if she had to go through this alone. i'm probably going to give his mother a call tomorrow or later on tonight. i really broke down there for a little while, but it's okay now... automatic shut down of emotions, like usual. i wrote something really nice on my livejournal about/for him.

i...
...still loved him.

thank you Josh, for telling me now; i don't know what i would have done if i had found out months from now. I don't know if i'll be able to go to the service because of work and how... erm... horrid i am about public displays of emotion... silly isn't it? but i might go take him a bottle of booze and some cheap flowers and cry a little on his headstone, or something appropriately melancholy and poetic, something close to how he always was, you know?

something like how he always made me feel.