[Insanity

Am I insane?

Maybe.

Vermillion Stained Memories.

Memories?

Thoughts?

Is this reality?

Was someone standing there?

No.

They faded away.

I'm in awe.

Denial.

Fear.

I'm cold.

[Deaths Cold Hands

It's not Death. Death is flattering. He lures you into his lull.

I need to get away from reality.

From the hole.

That gaping emotional abyss.

I can't feel.

Why are you here?

Do you have a purpose to this existence?

No.

Exactly, my marionette.

A marionette you are.

A marionette of emotions. Do I have emotions?

No.

Of course not foolish child!

Freedom.

You're a slave to your despair.

You are not free.

I want to chase the butterflies.

There are no butterflies.

Of course there are. Only you see them.

Like my world?

Very much so.

Your reality, child.

I'm addicted to it.

To what?

Anything that's not realistic.

Who are you anyway?

I am you.

I am you.

I am me.

Exactly.

Exactly.

[I want to chase the butterflies.

Simplicity.

Fear.

Sorrow.

It goes deeper than that.

Blindingly deeper.

Am I insane?

[Yes.