I don't think we notice when it happens, the shift being so gradual. I don't think we see it coming. One day you wake up and you can't relate with yourself. One day you wake up, wanting to escape but the images just aren't there anymore. It's made in red with thickening, crumbling paint. Smearing on the that which no longer looks how it used to.

I'm almost tempted to miss a state of mind that never had any regard for me or my sanity. Gradually I'm taking steps for someone else. I never wanted to take the time to do. Is this compassion? Is this reaction?

Everything's calming for me, but around me there are people having their worst days ever. Super Nova's are nothing, compared to what happens inside. The truth can be held as a candle or a knife. Lovely wax filling in the spaces which mine arms used to grab at and find wanting.