You're supposed to cry for days, I understand. Curled up in a duvet, sobbing and forgetting to shower. For me it's more like being on hard drugs. I'm up, overwhelmingly relieved to be free, then down, surrounded by the detritus of our life together and unable to believe the devastation we've wrought. It's my last night in the flat tonight before moving out to Maisie's spare room for a month. Fish and I finally split up. Four years of living together and such an entangled life. We were really miserable though, it was the right decision but god I miss him. He wasn't ultimately to give me what I need, nor I him, but I love him so much and right now, wrapped in a duvet that smells like him, there's nothing I want more than for him to suddenly come through the door and cuddle me and the whole horrible thing to have been a dream.

Logic tells me that he hasn't come through the door and cuddled me for a long time since we've been together. Frankly, tonight, last night and all, having been on lovely Flo's sofa for a week, logic can go fuck itself. And I'm going to have some of Fish's lovely whisky.