Haunts
The way alone works is slight and mischievous. It causes doubt, denial, and ultimately self-degradation. It’s so amazing how something so singularly placid can be the spark that lights the metaphorical fireworks factory of emotion and bleakness. Why is it, then, that it is when I am alone that I feel most at ease, embracing the denial and worthlessness, walking along the same broken sidewalks I used to frequent when I was a boy of fifteen?