1.

1. Something like an introduction1

Sometimes I wonder why I’m still watching her. I’m an intruder here, losing myself – losing my life – in her most intimate moments, finding the world being painted in shades of red and brown and grey. I have never been in such a strange position before, gravitating between realities that co-exist so compactly that sometimes it’s all I can do not to hold my breath for fear of them imploding in on themselves, destructing into a blank emptiness, all those pieces falling into themselves.2

It’s such a sad sort of normality. I rest here, spending my days lazily watching her erratic processes. I can feel her thoughts as they echo off walls back into her ears, echoing them back, magnifying them. Her movements shake the air around me, and sometimes it’s difficult to see, this self-destructive air she has. I scream for her to stop, I beg and plead for a moment’s rest, but nothing comes of it. In those moments I have to remind myself that I’m nothing to her. I’m a ghost, and she’s largely deaf, anyway. It’s because of this that she’s become a recluse in her own sphere of existence.3

It’s all there is to do when you’re around her, watch. Pray for the worst, hope for the best, and remain in this limbo as she absorbs you deeper and deeper through her disturbingly enchanting life. It’s the most and the least I can do.4