Oh, how I wish you were here, brother. What I wouldn’t give to show you the stars.

She’s afraid of me. Afraid of my grief. Afraid it’s contagious. I am a reminder of mortality.

Everyone blames the victim. And then the victim becomes the villain.

We were supposed to survive together. We were supposed to leave and live and grow old together. But instead, his death is a sacrifice for my life, a life I no longer want.

Where do I go from here? What road do I travel down where you are not by my side? What life do I lead where you are not there to guide me?

I want to be a fly on the wall. Unseen. Unnoticed. But then I’d have to stop lighting things on fire. That’s not going to happen.

Corruption. The perennial business model.

Loss has a way of dampening life.

I cast a spell over people. My eyes are hypnotic. My body a drug. They’re addicted. You’d understand if you met me. Let’s hope, for your sake, you never do.

She’s my mirror — the same image twisted, turned, reflected back so sun becomes moon, left becomes right, good becomes evil, right becomes wrong. But who am I? The person? Or the echo?