It's four and a half hours later, and I'm feeling a little better. I did what he always told me to do (and if we were together made me do). I got dressed, went and got coffee and got out of the apartment. For the last few hours I've been sitting in the library, armed with textbooks on media theories and a very large coffee. The first CD he ever made me is playing in the headphones. I'm still feeling shitty, but at least it's nostalgic and not just shitty shitty.

That's an improvement, right?