There are no paths where I'm going, only chaos. There is no sound, only garbled noise. There is no up or down, no left or right. I have to create it out of nothing and make sense of what was never meant to make sense, and yet if I don't, it will continue to hound me, to stalk me; it will continue to feed on me from the inside, until it will make me hollow and brittle, and I will collapse like a skin-sack without bones to hold it up because they rotted away, the flesh long eaten to nothing by the fears and the doubts and the self-hatred. It is the path to coming out the other end and being able to share my journey, when I'm through. And I'm not through it yet, I may have just turned its darkest corner.