He knew this place; he'd been here before.  He'd lost count how many times over the last six years he'd woken up in the middle of the night, crying.  It was always the same.  Go to sleep feeling just fine, wake up at a random hour of the night crying, cry for a while thinking about her, fall back asleep from exhaustion.  But for each time he'd woken up crying, he'd fallen asleep crying that night twice as many times.  He always told himself this was his choice, his burden to bear.  He told himself it was for the best, that it had to be done.  Now, despite his best efforts, six years of working to keep his secret were coming undone, and that knowledge almost brought him crashing back down to a place he hadn't been in a long time.  He had been there before, but had no desire to ever return.