"I did. My life basically crumbled around me. I had nothing to look forward to, or work for, or anything. The one thing I wanted above all else was gone, and all I had left was my hatred of you. And maybe Spitfire. I stopped going to work, I stopped paying my bills, and I stopped washing for like a month, which was pretty grim. I was solidly sitting on rock bottom, and I reached the point that I was so consumed with ineffectual anger I had to either kill myself, or accept that maybe... just maybe, you were right about me."