A friend tells me, my despair is my own creation…a state I like to be in, something that helps him absolve himself from me, like all the others, I feel silly, I see truth in what he says, it makes me hate him. I see a future of never ending loneliness. Its just me, convulsing at the enormity of what I am convincing myself, that loneliness is my predicament, a punishment, an unjust punishment I have meted out to myself to convulse again sadly at my reflection, there his words speak again in my ear only its my reflection speaking.