They say there are five stages of loss. In a way, that's what I'm going through of sorts. But I find myself stuck in two of them, anger and depression. 1) DenialI lived there when she left with Seviride at the airport. Thinking she loved me like a sappy sack of dumb sh*t. 2) Anger Blew past denial when I found her listless body on the beach. To say I was pissed when I found out she was pregnant would be an understatement. 3) Bargaining Didn't get a chance for that one since the FBI took her away, hiding them both from the Croatian Mob. 4) Depression Some would say this is the reason for my perpetual day-drunk state. What they don't understand is, I like it. It helps welcome the night and numbs me from my unending sex-fest. I suppose those people think I should shower too. 5) Acceptance Everyone keeps telling me to move on. Are you f*cking kidding me? If they only knew she's not even freaking dead! For me, that final stage would be elusive anyway. She was my rush. With every second that ticks away, I live day-by-stinking-day in the rotting pit of my Hell without her.