...waking up has actually hurt.

Cold realization that I'm still here slowly sets in.

I was never terribly fond of waking up.

I was never one to jump out of bed...

...and greet the day with a smile like Jim was.

I used to want to punch him sometimes in the morning.

He was so happy.

I always used to tell him that only fools greet the day with a smile.

That only fools could possibly escape the simple truth...

...that now isn't simply now.

It's a cold reminder.

One day later than yesterday.

One year later than last year.

And that, sooner or later...

...it will come.

He used to laugh at me and then give me a kiss on the cheek.

It takes time in the morning for me to become George.

Time to adjust to what is expected of George...

...and how he is to behave.

By the time I've dressed and put the final layer of polish...

...on the now slightly stiff but quite perfect George...

...I know fully what part I'm supposed to play.

Looking in the mirror, staring back at me...

...isn't so much a face as the expression of a predicament.

Just get through the goddamn day.

A bit melodramatic, I guess.

Then again...

...my heart has been broken.

I feel as if I'm sinking.

Drowning.

Can't breathe.