I want to scream. I want to break down. I want to throw something.
But I can't. Nothing to throw in a rubber room.
It's sad, what I've come to. Pathetic. Screaming and writhing and hurting people because of the nightmares... the dreams that haunt me even in the daytime.
I suppose I should be angry at Kronos for breaking me. But frankly, I think I would have ended up locked up somewhere no matter how the war had turned out. So, really, it doesn't matter.
I can't do this anymore.
But there's no escape in a rubber room.
