I think that this is prolly the most alone that I've felt in a real long time.

I have a hard time getting a handhold on my mental issues. And that is what they are, really, right? This is a ME problem. This isn't real, it's something that I have made up. I am happy. I enjoy living like this. I enjoy it alot. But somewhere I feel a trifle empty, flashbacks have been occurring more and more over the past few weeks. Not all beautiful. All painful, and all consuming. I surrender myself to those moments, and find myself in that alternate reality... sometimes for 5 minutes, sometimes for a few seconds. I always feel heavy afterwards. Like someone is pushing on my ribs... Almost trying to crush me.

Here comes the music that i've so long avoided. Maybe because I have fenced so much off, there is nothing left to give. I just do not know.

They say that I am the most frightening person they have met. I guess I just don't understand that. I thought, ... I think that I am as nice as possible. I've not once lost my temper. I always speak slowly and evenly. So why? Why the fear? The old axiom, my closer, maybe.

"Beware the wraith of a patient man."

-CR

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