If there's something I've learned this past year and a half, it's that Cassadine men get in their own way.

I went to see Ava yesterday. She hasn't been doing well, what with your father pushing and pulling her in their marriage. I'm not sure what's going on with him, and I'm not sure I really want to find out. Mr. Cassadine seems kinda exhausting to deal with, in my opinion. I bet you'd agree. But beyond that, I hate what it's done…what HE'S done to Ava. I know she loves him, but it breaks my heart every time she's reeling from the pain he causes her.

And now I'm thinking of you.

In all honesty, I haven't really been able to sit down and think about everything you've given me. I don't just mean the Molyneux book or the strange rendition of 'Carrie' you put on in the gallery, I also mean the grief and confusion and agony. I thought my life was derailed when my father "died" trying to stop Cyrus Renault, your great uncle, but then here you come, pushing me off that cliff again. I'm not sure if I'll be able to get back on track.

So here I sit, typing on my laptop, grappling with my new reality.

They say that a great love is life-changing. Nothing ends up being the same, and when all is said and done, the result ends up better than the origins. I can't tell you how many movies I've seen where that was the story, how much I dreamed of getting a love so full and all-consuming. None of the guys I dated in high school gave me that. That's not their fault, and I'm not saying I didn't love them. I just didn't feel…completely immersed in the relationships. We were young, and that type of love is a luxury I really wanted for myself. I mean, Joss and Cam got it, why couldn't I?

…You really swept me off my feet.

A million eyes were on me when I walked into The Savoy. My friends and family stared at me, mortified, as blood covered me from head-to-toe. A million more thoughts filled the room, shock and fear and pity, while I just…stood there. My loved ones' reassurance did little to actually help me feel better; they were just as mortified as I was. The one person at The Savoy who wasn't blown away was this cute guy with brown hair in a clean white dress shirt. His name was Victor, and he was a new employee at the club.

At least, that's what he told me. Oh wait, I'm sorry, that's what YOU told me. And it all went downhill from there.

Is compulsive lying an inherited Cassadine trait? It has to be, considering how often your father has lied to Ava, and how often you've lied to me. Was I not trustworthy enough for you? Did I give you some reason to lie? What did I do for you to make up an entire fake persona? I mean, you've answered those questions and then some whenever I've confronted you on it, and maybe it's a waste for me to harp on it. But it's something I've thought about sometimes, just as much as I've thought about you keeping a girlfriend secret.

It's like a switch flipped with you when Esme found us on the parapet at Wyndemere. You went from this flawed but earnest guy, this scholar of the arts who was always willing to lend an ear, to this cold, arrogant jerk who practically enabled his equally terrible girlfriend. And even then, you still tried to cement that earnest impression of you I had, and the lines got blurred more often than I would've liked them to be.

I'm not sure I've met a man who was more insecure; you went between me and Esme if one of us was "winning" over the other for you. When I was arrested for the revenge porn your then-girlfriend filmed, and nearly had my life ruined, you looked down on me until the last possible second. I'd be lying if I said I didn't find it both admirable and aggravating.

And that's something I keep getting caught up in: I know you mean well. I know your intention isn't to hurt me. You had your own special way of trying to right your wrongs, and as much as I should've just walked away and cut you out, I still give you chance after chance and keep you in my circle.

I'm not going to act like the good in our connection is muddied by the ugly. It's not every day I get to talk out the complexities of hyper-realism with someone who's genuinely interested, and it's pretty comforting to be able to vent about my family drama without judgment or unwanted advice. Those things still exist between us now, an eye in this hurricane we're caught in, and I'll always look at that fondly.

But it doesn't change the chaos I was thrown into because of you.

It's not just the blood or the rampant lying, it's the aggression and standoffish behavior you constantly engaged in: you dismissing me when I confronted you over Esme's actions against me, you believing I could be capable of committing such a heinous crime against my friends, you deflecting when I tried to get you to open up to me when I finally went to see you at Pentonville. Just…so much stuff, and I know that there's more that'll come the more you're in my orbit.

This is where we are now.

I've known you for about a year-and-a-half now, and in those 500+ days (a rough estimate), the amount of just…bad moments is double that. I've really tried to look for the good moments, the best in the worst, but it's just given me a lot of grief. I know we've made amends, but I don't think that stops me from being frustrated with your actions while accepting your intentions. Maybe I should've realized I was just "next" after Esme, but I know better than to think of myself as another notch in your belt. I know better than to think so low of you, even though your viciousness has really pushed me to go there.

My feelings for you are intoxicating and messy, and I know I'll be working through them for a while. Maybe now that I've gotten this off my chest, I can leave it behind and pull myself deeper into what you've left me with. Maybe I can finally feel the euphoria in drowning that I was always meant to feel. We'll see.