| Sitting alone in the dark, he comtemplates
the day's events, like a knotted quilt unraveling before him. He has yet to truely comprehend what has happened, and even if he could, would be powerless to change it. He yearns for the days of innocence and the times of simplicity. Hours go by, thinking about the day- reviewing over and over excactly what had transpired. Every glance, hand gesture, and motion at all played over and over until he remembers every detail. All his worries will soon come to fruition. Thinking back to his childhood, he has a breakthrough. People aren't the problem. He is. The realization washes over him- a sobering, clensing wave punching through his subconscience. A feeling of desperate lonliness backhands him, sending him reeling in self-discovery; towards the truth. He now knows what he should do. What every man with any degree of self-respect would. But he won't. He's different. He'd rather live his entire life in the shadows, his feelings forever hidden, than ever put himself at the mercy of others. not again. He can't sleep anymore. It's getting worse for him. cold. Things have stopped making sence, and he's stopped believeing in anything. Not in love, not in fate, not religion, not even his own sences. And certainly not in himself. He is but fodder to his own fear, and what's killing him is that he knows it. |