Alone

I know what I’m going to end up like, where I’m going to end up; I’ve seen it all before. And nobody’s going to know why or where or how because I’ve written it all here, and told nobody else. Dr. Rosenthal isn’t going to be checking up on me, anymore. I stopped going to those sessions right before Randy’s. It all fell apart after the dream thing; she tried to talk to me more about it and I flipped out and...

I’m all alone.

The voice is quiet. I...I know this sounds fucking crazy, but I swear I can make out its’ discordant, disjointed laughter in the silence, though, as it watches decay blossom inside of me.

I think even the dreams of granddad were better than the fucked-up blurred Rorschach tests that all my memories of the gaps in my memory have become. The party has become endless loops of broken record-scratching laughter.