{15th december 2012}

dear jen,

i am inside and i am writing and i am listening to the rain on the window and i am so tired.

mum says i'm getting better. she says i'm even starting to smile at things, now. i'm not sure that's true, jen, but if she wants to believe it, then i'm not stopping her, because even if i'm not happy she should be.

you know what happened yesterday?

i caught myself singing. singing.

it wasn't even a good song, or one liz used to like.

should i feel guilty that i was singing?

(liz used to say that i was a good singer. that i could make a living out of it if i wanted to. she's not the type to lie, but even so, i'm not sure.)

christmas is ten sleeps away. i know you like christmas. but i'm not sure i will; it's my first christmas without liz and i don't like that, really i don't.

i wanted her to have lots of christmases with me - shitloads of christmases, year after year after year until we were too old to remember what day christmas was on at all.