Reality is a harsh mistress.
Now it is lonely again.
But I will learn.
I must learn.
That, or go mad.
Madness... without memory,
without dreams or hopes,
without sadness...
Might that not be the best way to handle things?

Would that there was such a way to do that,
painlessly, quickly,
being totally unaware of it as it happened.
Then gladly would I hold that moment,
that chance, that way of escape,
to my chest and weep;
deep, wracking, soundless sobbing,
until I could no longer remember why I am weeping.
Until I no longer knew...

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