You're pretty good at knowing when you're screwed. You could identify that feeling in your gut from a mile away. Because if anything, you've felt it more than enough times. You felt it when you first saw your best friend, sprawled out by the pool, her striking blonde hair, dyed red with scandal. You felt it the night after Shelly Pomroy's party, and the first time the soon to be expected "Whore" was spotted on your locker door. You felt it the first time he threw the figurative but literally painful punch.

You definitely felt it at the Camelot, after you kissed him. You could feel it crushing you as you walked down the steps, making your feet unusually heavy. You could feel the impending doom that seemed to follow him around, for the rest of the week, suffocating you. And the metal walls that seemed like a good idea at first were bending in, breaking down, making it harder to survive. Suddenly you didn't feel so secure.

You felt it again, the next time you kissed, because as you realized that kissing him made breathing easier, you realized that you were in over your head. You weren't sure that you could get out, not sure you wanted to.

You felt it now, because what had once made living easier was slowly making it harder. You didn't want to be apart of his road to self-destruction, so you knew you had to get out. You ending things, with one thought in your mind. You've lived without him before.

You are good at adjusting; you've done it too many times not to be. Your world shattered, and left you with huge chunks missing, so you tried to piece back together what was left. You bonded it with glue and tape, lies and promises, and expected it to hold. It did for a while, and slowly the glue dried, and the lies became better hidden, and you were stronger. You thought for sure, that when one of the big missing pieces tried to mix itself in with the others, your façade would bust, and you would have to build again. But it didn't, and you held yourself together for a bit longer.

But now, the feeling once again revisited you, and you could feel the fragile pieces begin to rip apart. Glue wasn't strong enough; lies weren't strong enough, even when you told them to yourself. you weren't strong enough. He had found a way to fit again. And now you were left with another gaping hole, and you weren't sure you had enough energy to fill it again.

Usually crying is hard for you, because the tears have to push through the metal walls, and the tape and glue, and the many layers that are veronica mars. But this time as the tears come slowly, silently, you know that the tears aren't what hurts, or the feeling in your stomach. You know what is breaking, along side the sharp shards of your life. Because even though you've lived without him before, you know that you won't be able to now. Because he helped build the walls that surround you, he knew how to tear them down. You weren't sure that you could build them back up without his constant unintentional encouragement. You feel so unprotected without them, and you know better than anyone, that without protection in Neptune? You're screwed.