I should and I must and I can. But I do not.

A friend said this on the phone to me this morning, "That's because you're still hurting."

It has resonated with me ever since, and I think it is because she admitted out loud the thing that I hadn't even managed to admit to myself.

It is like having a sharp needle pressed to your skin. Everyday, when I think about how I will never see him again, the needle presses a little deeper. Note, the needle hasn't actually pierced through the skin. But the pain is there, just by having the needle pressed there.

It is not just pain, but I think it is just an ache deep, deep inside. Like, one of my organs just aches, and I don't know how to make it go away. My heart aches.

It is fine to me if people think I am overly emotional or attention seeking. I have neither the compulsion nor the need to make them think otherwise. One of the most important, if archaic things about me is the need to uphold a standard of honor. As long as I keep to that creed, I guess it doesn't really matter what others say.