I caught the series finale of Dawson's Creek yesterday morning on TBS, watched all the Friends hoopla last night and ER on tape this morning. I haven't cried so much in ages.

At one point I got up to get more tissues from the washroom. As I reached for the box, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror; I looked awful, all red eyes and blotchy skin and runny nose. The interesting thing is, I actually liked what I saw. I derived pleasure from the general shittiness of my being.

There have been a number of rotten events in my life of late, and I haven't been able to cry about a single one of them. Maybe there's a piece of me deep down that's grateful for the release, even if it has to happen in front of the television?