3 months after.

"Rainy weather, crowded streets,

Everything pitched in grey and black.

A normal day in London.

I get up in the morning, force myself to eat breakfast, go to work, return home, eat - and go to bed again.

Thankful - for every minute of sleep I can get.

I'm a machine. Repeating and repeating the same routine over, and over, and over again.

Why can't anybody see whats happening here? See how I'm dying?

Breaking apart, a bit more and more, everytime I'm walking through this once so beloved rooms?

My face frozen in a faked smile, me frozen in a faked life.

Empty.

Broken.

Can nobody hear me crying out there?

Nobody of the ones I used to call my friends, at that time, "before"?

There are no fights about your indiscriminate behaviour,

no frustration about your misunderstanding of the social life,

no relieved giggling at the crime scenes.

- and I miss it.

There is no change - because nothing happens.

I'm alone, I realized.

Alone in this empty world.

But even now you're gone I can't stop to see the world through your eyes.

First I thought I can handle a life without you, but I had to learn that I can't.

Because I need you, Sherlock, I need you at my side.

But WHY CAN'T YOU HEAR ME?

Why am I that WEAK, why can't I just IGNORE my feelings like you did it all the time?

When did you became the most important part of my life?

When did I start to depend on your stupid selfish behaviour, so much, that I miss it now?

But you're gone, and I dont know -

I don't know why I'm fighting anymore.

And it scares me, but:

there is nothing left to fight for.

Because

YOU aren't here anymore."

JW