It is difficult when the circumstances are revived and things play out as exactly they had been before, only this time, it’s different – fundamentally different – it’s difficult to keep down the surge of emotions that you thought had already gone and disappeared. How could I have helped myself from feeling a little tingle at the end of my nerves, or waiting for a little something that in the past would have come my way with so little ease, without even a shivering hint of desire? Now, I have in me that feeling of tortuous emptiness again. It is tedious to deal with. Maybe, just maybe, for all the spellings of scorn which I bore and which I brandished before my friends as though it were some mighty sword, I am inside, still very much bleeding and vulnerable. The wounds were never closed, but only covered by the scabs which presented themselves as the brave scars from battle. As I walked home, I tried imagining how I would have felt had things never change so significantly. You see, I nearly forgot that almost euphoric feeling.