February 10th, Year 20

Under the conditions in which I have lived, it has proven impossible for me to be anything but the most unbearable of human beings. I keep my interactions brief. I exchange what I must with a hiss. Words are shot out of my tongue, and they leap out doing such acrobatics, you would think they should have their own traveling show. But, I do not have time for such grandiose plans, when panic monopolizes all I have to give. It hangs on to my very bones, playing them like lead pipes. This does not create a pleasant noise, just cries of anguish no one has ever cared to hear.

I miss Robert. His memory is strong enough to come through, and haunt me. There is his smile, crooked and most insincere. There are his eyes, stuck on the last expression he displayed in my presence. It isn’t much, but it is all he gave.

February 10th, Year 20

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