Something lurks about. Like a shadow, it is something I can see, but I can't grasp. It isn't really there, you see? You can't grab a shadow. You can't grab an idea.

Maybe it's general absence following my steps.

The absense of identity, inspiration, pride - the awful aftertaste of some fantastic drug. The long withdrawal and the sense of losing oneself in the process.

Maybe it's the madness, peering at me from far away.

These dreams, of confusion, and death, and sorrow, an unescapable mess of threats and fear and tears and innocence.

"The hardest battles are fought in the mind."