Dying alone has its appeal. Quiet, no fuss.

I hate fuss.

My world is in order. It has to be.

A balancing act between coping and denying

The very fabric of what it means to live is tinged with betrayal and fear

Trust is a commodity that I haven't the luxury to retain

You know who you are

Shutting the door is easier

No need to see what's been left behind it