So last night didn't go quite as well as I thought it might. Sasha more or less broke up with me. I'm still processing this and may or may not have actually accepted it. I'm equivocating fiercely here -- dreams die hard. There's been a lot of crying, which is probably a positive step up from my adolescent tendency to punch very inanimate things and drag my knuckles against brick walls when emotionally agitated. Seems healthier anyway; but it's a hard thing for me to cry. Havn't done it in years. Yes, I'm something of a mess.