There is too much confusion in this head of mine. It's not that there are voices, but a voice, with so many things to say. Alternate endings, and traps that will change the direction of the tracks.
The infinancy of possibility is a heavy weight on an already burdened heart. The smallest bit of doubt reacts violently, thrashing wave after wave against my mind, my hope. The question ringing in my ear, "what do you really know?"
The answer, of course, less than settling. I swallow this pain all day. I figure, if it won't kill me, it must just be a part of this. I figure, if this isn't some dream or if I'm
not stuck in endless subconsciousness, then there is still a chance at truth. That I heard the truth, and that it will be worth this test. That there is some point to what seems like torture.
That she was right.
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