It's been a long, exhausting day. I worked through lunch hoping to get finished at a reasonable time, but I wasn't quite that lucky.
I'm in a bad way right now. I feel like I'm losing myself as the black water of depression envelops me. I realize that it's only a bad day, and under the circumstance, is to be expected. I tell myself this, and it does no good at all.
A few minutes ago, I got an alert on my cell phone that I needed to delete some text messages or I wouldn't be able to receive any more. Happy for the distraction, I set myself about the busy work of deleting the old messages, when I came accross one that got to me. It was from my wife, at 12:59PM on November 29th (the day before my life fell apart), and it read simply: "I love you. Please be happy." My hand trembled, the words became blurry, and a single tear rolled down my cheek as I put my phone down as careful as a young mother nestles her newborn child. I didn't delete the message. It's the last reminder of how things used to be. If I could, I'd go back and live in that moment forever.