I'm not alone yet. I have all this noise that keeps me company. Crackles, and roaring, like being under rapidly moving water. Enough to give me migranes.

There's screams there too. Shrill, startled ones. Strangled, choked ones. Desperate, agonised ones. Deep, terrified ones. Many screams, in many voices. Young, old, male, female, deep, high, soft, loud.

And whimpers. And cries. Sobbing, weeping, spluttering. Scornful, brave, useless laughs. Groans, moans, gasps, roars, bellows. So many noises.

And there's the chaos. It's always with me. A living, breathing entity, more alive than most people. It's everywhere, but mostly, it's in me. It keeps me company. It keeps me going.

It keeps me insane.

They'll never understand. Never understand the pressure, where you have to lash out just to make it stop. Have to kill to stop the screams. Have to scream to stop the noise. Have to completely immerse yourself in the chaos, become worse, lose yourself, let it control you.

If the chaos takes me away, I won't be in pain. I won't hear the screams, or feel the pressure, or lose to the obsession and addication and need and desire.

I won't feel. I won't be me. It's the only way I can cope.

When I feel alone, I can't stand it. I reach out the to the only company I have. It makes me worse, makes me want to be alone. One day, this cycle will destroy me.

Like it's destroyed so many others.

It isn't me. I'm not like this. I'm not sadistic or suicidal. I don't kill and torture for fun.

It's the chaos. And I welcome it, because when I am in it's company, I don't care.

I can't bear the caring.