Benzosothyazolonal.

It wasn’t all that funny. Not at all. But I laughed. For a good two minutes. Two and a half maybe. Three even, but I can’t be too sure.

I am sure that it felt good to do it. It felt good to laugh. Not just chuckle at something humourous, but laugh, properly properly laugh.

Oddly, it wasn’t even that funny. It was funny, just not so-freaking-hilarious-so-‘ll-laugh-for-3-minutes funny.

The point is, I laughed. I properly laughed for the first time in weeks. And I didn’t feel guilty about being able to. I didn’t resist the urge to clap my hands over my mouth for thinking something or anything at all could be funny. I didn’t feel like I’d done something intractable wrong after either.

I guess it had something to do with the fact that you would have found it funny too.

I guess I’m finally realizing that I’m not allowed to wallow for so long. Not because you didn’t want me too. But because I shouldn’t. Because it’s unhealthy. Because life sucks and we just have to deal with it sometimes.

“Aiden Burn: … Benzosothyazolonal.
Det. Don Flack: Whoa, Benzosothyazolonal?
Aiden Burn: You know what that is?
Det. Don Flack: No.”
CSI:NY Ep#1.11.

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