It’s funny really. You’d think, I guess if you wait long enough, and search hard enough that you’ll find someone like you. Someone who shares your pain. Someone haunted by your demons. Someone who knows the way out. But you can’t bet on it, you can’t. You just can’t. You’re not who you think you are, and whatever you think they are, they are, but much worse. You go in and out. You’ll have days and weeks you don’t remember and then you’ll suddenly come to, with a total recollection of all the horrific things you’ve done. It’s so hot in here; I need to put on a sweater. No. I’m so sorry. Ironic.