Not sure where this came from...unless I can blame it on a lack of sleep. I just had this image of Reese contemplating his life after escaping death at Ordos and finding out Jessica was dead and what thoughts might be going thru his mind. One of the things they tell you in therapy is to write your thoughts down so when you come to your next visit you can review it. So I thought "Why can't Reese just write down the key moments of his life before he boarded the subway that fateful night?" I'm not sure where this is going or if I am going to continue. I do hope that I caught the angst and defeat Reese could be feeling as he decides to give it all up and end it all.

Talk Me Down

Journal entry. Day One: I want to die. There, I said it. And no, I don't feel better. They told me at the VA if I wrote my thoughts down it would make things easier to deal with. I don't want to deal with things, I want to die. Plain and simple. I guess some people would call that a defeatist attitude…I call it wishful thinking. I find myself walking around New York City and I don't see anything. Why am I here? Why wasn't I there when she needed me? I know. I shouldn't think about the past and my failures, but every time I look around, I see her. I hope she can forgive me for not being there when she needed me. I hope that she can forgive me for what I did to him. P.s. They are never going to find him. I made sure of that.

Day Seven: I woke up this morning and found myself still breathing. Still can't understand why I am stuck in this hell, but I got up and made my rounds around the city. I found a dollar and bought myself a cup of coffee…it was good. And it warmed my fingers. I think I found something that made me happy. The therapists at the VA would call that a break through. I guess. I did find a half-eaten danish in a trash can. It was okay. Does this mean I'm digressing?

Day Ten: I woke up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. I thought I was having a heart attack. But then I realized I had been dreaming about her. She was smiling at me. It seemed real. God, why can't it be real?

Day Thirteen: Got arrested today. No big deal. I guess the Metro cops don't take kindly to people jumping the turnstiles and riding subways for free. Considering some of the things I've seen on subways cars, riding for free can't be the worst offense. At least it got me a night in jail. Baloney sandwich and water, but the cell was warm. No complaints.

Day Twenty: It's too cold to venture out today, so I'm going to try and write my thoughts down. I don't know if this is helping. I look back over the few entries and I wonder to myself if this is worth it. I don't have anything to leave anyone, and I'm sure that no one is interested in any of my past lives or the people I killed in the name of liberty and freedom. Honestly, I don't know if they were all bad or some were good, but they were orders, and like any good soldier I follow orders. But that last one… I still wonder why I couldn't pull the trigger. Did I know that Mark had lied to me? Was I secretly hoping that if I hesitated Kara would show her true colours and then I wouldn't feel guilty? But when I saw the look in her eyes, I knew that I had made a mistake. I guess that pretty much sums up my life: One mistake after another. At least my dad and Jessica can't see me now.

Day Twenty-five: Some nice cop bought me a coffee. I didn't want to be rude and say no. It warmed my fingers. Damn, Manhattan gets cold! I think I may need to go down to the Salvation Army and see if they have any new boots I can wear. I don't want to beg, but what the hell. I can't afford the tape to repair the boots I have. Maybe a meal, too.

Day Twenty-nine: Woke up with a headache that seemed to split my head in two. Is this a sign that the end is near? Or is this my guilt? I tried to take a nap in the hope that I would wake up dead. Disappointed again. I'm still here. Why? What purpose does my being around serve? I can't believe that my being on this godforsaken earth is for the greater good. For all the sins and crimes I've committed, why am I still here? WHY AM I STILL HERE? Maybe there is no God…at least one that answers prayers and dishes out punishment.

Day Thirty-four: Nothing is going on. Stopped a mugging, but it made me think of what my one therapist said, "You need a purpose and a reason to move on." No, all I need is Jessica and she isn't here. There is no reason or purpose without her. End of story.

Day Thirty-seven: Still alive to write down thoughts in this book. I missed an appointment at the VA. I just can't handle the bullshit. Delving into my past and trying to put it into perspective is not what I want to do. What I got or didn't get for Christmas is not what made me what I am. And going to group therapy is a big mistake. Telling strangers the things I did to get where I'm at wouldn't make things right with me, but I guess it would be worth it for warmth. I did pick-pocket a guy today. I guess when it comes down to it, necessity outweighs the law. I did give him back the wallet. One bad deed and one good deed. Think I'll pass on the coffee tomorrow and get a fifth. Maybe if I drink myself into a stupor and I fall asleep I'll finally get my wish come true.

Day Forty: She came to me in my dreams again. So beautiful and happy…I could feel her soft skin and smell the perfume on her hair. I cried. She was my everything and I failed her. Oh God, why couldn't I have been there for her? Oh, what am I talking about? I didn't deserve her. But she didn't deserve him and I gave her to him; I signed her death warrant. I don't deserve to live. God help me, but is my being alive punishment for failing her? If there is a hell, I am in it.

Day Forty-two: When you find that someone who completes you and then you lose them, who do you become then? This question has been racing around in my mind all day. I guess that it didn't help that yesterday was Jessica's birthday. I swear that I heard her voice today. But when I looked up, she was no where to be found. Just a ghost to haunt me. I deserve it.

Day Forty-four: I went to Jessica's grave today. Stood there as the snow fell. I tried to find something to say, but other than "I'm sorry" what could I tell her? I know the therapists call it "closure", but all it did was rip open the wound that was barely healing. I don't know how much more of this I can take.

Day Forty-six: I should never have gone to visit Jessie. All I see is her lying in the casket because of my stupidity. It should be me down there, not her! How did this happen? Why did this happen? I wish I could die. Why can't I just die and leave this world?

Day Forty nine: Brief moment of excitement today when a new person decided to touch something in Joan's cart. I bet he won't be doing that again.

Day Fifty: I sat and looked at the bullet I keep in my pocket. I know that I am going to use it, but when? When things get too unbearable? When I can't handle it anymore? Why can't I find the courage to just end it all? What is the one thing that is stopping me? I just don't want to live anymore, I don't want to believe that there is a second chance at happiness out there. Happiness is for fools. Jessica was my happiness, my shot at a normal life…now she's gone. There is nothing left to live for. I can't do what needs to be done here; I'm going to take the subway out to Queens and do it. There is a nice spot just outside of town where no one will ever find me. I figure if I'm drunk enough I won't feel the bullet. At least it will be quicker than drinking myself to death.