Rationalisation. The process by which we attempt to make the unfamiliar and unacceptable, both familiar and acceptable. You cannot manage it? Try harder, think it over a million times if need be. Hidden among all those things is your elusive explanation that would give a it flow, fit things into a pattern and even if you were in the wrong, make it a justifiable wrong. Aha! There. Gotcha! You were right all this while, were you not?
Recollection. The first step towards rationalisation. Work your way backwards towards the cause from the effect. To put it more precisely, towards a more plausible and acceptable effect. Geeks call it disassembly, the meek call it hindsight. Read a novel from the last page towards the beginning, give things colours that the author never intended to give. You knew it all the time. I know, you told me so.
Confusion. The part where the wheat and the chaff find they are in conjugal bliss before they are separated at the sieve of the first R. Fact looks like fiction, fiction looks like fact. This heady orgy is a journey of ecstasy, pain, joy, confusion, anger and disappointment. The ecstasy of detachment, of a lumbering part severing, the joy of an anticipated separation, the impulsive pain and anger of loss, finally, the disappointment of nothing having changed.
Realisation. The eradication of the latency between it happening and knowing what happened. Rubbing the eyes as hard as possible and the search for an exit button from the unwanted dream having failed, this is the first of the bitter medicines. It cures, eventually. The course needs to be followed religiously. It is only a mild from of reconciliation, socially more accepted too. No noticeable side effects. Can't you see the first R in the distance?
Desolation. The island of misery where the unfortunate come to roost. A land beyond the reach of any R, C or any other letter. There is only the ocean of misery filled that is refilled over and over again by the tears of the unfortunate. Every unfortunate has a rivulet of tears that runs from him till the ocean of misery. Every teardrop asks a simple question for which there is no answer, simple or otherwise. The unfortunate are destined to keep crying forever.