Considering how much time I spend on my own, it's a wonder why I usually find myself restless and looking for a companion. There is only but a few things one can speak of when one is talking to oneself.

Perhaps someone would like to go out for drinks? I can talk, I can listen; it doesn't matter, I am after the company.

I am alone in my house at the moment and it's quiet.

Another body has been found. It has not yet been identified, but just the sight of pale skin and limp hands make me feel cold and empty, knowing that somewhere out there, somebody is grieving, worried and yet hoping against all odds to have somebody back. Only to be told that they had lost him forever.

I cannot begin to imagine what I will do if I was that person. Hoping. Waiting. Only to find my nightmares become reality in front of my eyes. Not again.

These are the kinds of things that can drive a person mad.