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Sometimes, I miss the circus life. I mean, being on the move, floating from town to town, not ever setting down roots, or forming real long-lasting attatchments.

It's got a romanticism to it, you know?

I certainly wouldn't be puttering around aimlessly because of what day it is on the calendar.

Bobbi and my anniversary.

I still miss her every single day. I know, wherever she is, she's probably missing me too.

I hope that doesn't seem as egotistical as it reads. I just...I know Bobbi. She loved me every bit as much as I loved her. Hell, maybe more. I'm the one who broke things off with her, after all. I'm the one who started our seperation because I couldn't deal with the fact that she stood by and let a man die when we were trapped in the old west.

Didn't mean I didn't love her. Didn't mean I wasn't in Hell every day I was without her. I've just never been great with keeping my feelings out in the open and on my sleeve. Not like Cap or Wanda, anyway. They feel something, you know about it. Me, I internalize. I hold it in. And I regularly blow my stack at something small because of it.

Maybe therapy ain't a bad idea.

I should look up Lenny Sampson. He's good at unraveling the knots people like us wind our heads into.