"...No, not really," John said, and put the bottle down. He knew that just by not getting hostile or defensive all the damn time he'd come a long way from school and yet that day had made him feel paradoxically at his worst and at his best. Sighing, he tipped his head back to look at the ceiling again. "I'd gotten one or two...hints, from Em, about the me that was or could've been or should've been or something. Tonight I got some more of the story and I didn't like it very much. That's all." He knew he sounded lonely, and melancholy, and underneath it all he felt so damn weary, because he'd done nothing but roll that stone up that hill and all it did was keep rolling down again.

"...And I was a bit of a dumbass today, too, and I just. It wasn't a great day, for me. I'm sorry for being a mess- it's why I didn't want to come up to bed." If he was gonna tear the bandage off, might as well do it all real quick.