Do you think of me when you are by yourself, in bed? Do you think of me and what do you feel? And why did you come to that meeting in Zosch but didn’t have fun with me? Did you want to? Were you disappointed? Did you want to tell me something that day? I remember my old failures with you and they haunt me. Maybe I wasn’t paying enough attention.

Sometimes I feel like in a prison. Where you, liberty, is out there, but I’m not allowed to escape. I feel like I am in my own prison, my own place in my head and it’s terrifying.