What was I afraid of, exactly? What other people would think? I guess, a little. But that wasn't what was stopping me from acting on my feelings. It was the intensity of them. The desire for her. I knew if I gave into it, I'd have to surrender myself completely. I'd lose all control. Everything I knew, everything I was, the walls I'd built up to protect myself all these years would come crashing down. I might get lost in the rubble. Yet, she made me feel alive in a way I'd only ever imagined I could feel. Bells, whistles, music.

You would never understand, Kim. You think I'm normal; you wish I was.

The sad truth is, they should never trust me.

Sometimes I'd catch myself looking at my reflection in windows and wonder who I was. Where I was going. Then the image would change and it wouldn't be me, just some nebulous shadow person.

She responds by kissing me harder and longer and deeper. She loves me too. She's just afraid.

I've never been afraid of the dark. I'm more afraid of the day, of people. I love the night. The solitude. Well, I don't love it. I don't feel love. I hate people, so I hope when I get there it isn't crowded. I hope the light is a momentary phenomenon and the other side is completely black. And silent.

How does he do it? Live. With the fear of death every day. I don't fear death as much as I fear the thought of living.