I remember the day I lost my will to live.

I was about to propose to my girlfriend of three years, Terezi. I had loved her for even longer. The box was hidden in my hand; I let myself into her apartment with my key, and stopped dead at the sight that greeted me. The sight of one of my closest friends, Gamzee, straddling Terezi on the table, kissing lustfully and passionately, stopped all cognitive motion in my brain.

The key dropped from my hand in slow motion, the clatter of it hitting the floor the equivalent of thunder in my ears.

Both Gamzee and Terezi glanced at the door as I fled.

Terezi's pleas to wait, that I didn't understand, that she was sorry echoed down the hallway behind me, chasing me to the elevator was sprinting to. No, the elevator would take too long. I took a left instead, racing down the stairs to my car.

I didn't look back.

Locking myself in the small house that I had bought a year previously, I vowed never to leave. I buried myself under a pile of blankets and sobbed myself to sleep.

Months passed. I entertained myself by watching romantic comedies and crying. People tried to visit me, but I refused to open the door. Terezi never visited. The only time I ever left the house was to go to work or buy food. The only time I talked to anyone was when they asked me a direct question, which I responded to with a one or two word answer.

Looking back, I realize that it wasn't a life worth living, but back then, I didn't want to live.

A year passed. Two years. People started to tell me to move on. Soon they stopped talking to me altogether.

I cried every day, about the stupidest things. Before the breakup, if you could call it that, I used to never cry, instead using swear words to express my emotions. Now, it was like a faucet was turned on inside of me, and my tears spilled like rain down my cheeks. I fell into a stupor, going through the motions, not really knowing what I was doing.

Halfway through the third year, I was jolted awake by a familiar, lispy voice that I hadn't heard since high school.

"KK, it's time to live again."