I Remember
Most of my days were filled with patterns, recurring images of every situation that had gone to pass; and triggered fear deep in my heart.
The darkness now accumulated; the filth beneath slowly rising to the surface; pale tan-less skin I exposed unwillingly, the stench surely tangible in my general proximity.
With time a vicious habit formed, not by choice of conscious act but rather from illness I declare; a statement you may so graciously reject. But of all the things I do remember, only memories of fear still linger.