The day the music died.

I've never been able to fight my demons as hard as I wish I could. I just hide them for a little while, let them resurface with time. Today, I hate that his memory is tainted with his replacement's presence. I hate that no one is talking about him. I hate that I feel uncomfortable talking about him because of who is here. I hate that I feel so alone on the anniversary of the day where all my fears stemmed from. I hate that I'm worried about being alone for absolutely no reason. Right now, the little munchkin of a dog sitting next to me feels like my greatest ally. If only because she can't say anything back. She can't leave me on her own accord, and somehow that makes me feel safer. I know I'm not alone. But the memory, the memories, make feel like I am. My demons make me feel like anytime I will be. It's my greatest fear. And one I'll probably never be able to get rid of.

I do, however, like that no one is going to be able to know what the hell I just said.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," said Alice, "a great girl like you...to go on crying this way! Stop this moment, I tell you!" But she went on all the same, shedding gallons of tears, until there was a large pool all around her, about four inches deep and reaching half down the hall."