I finished Silent Hill 2 in October, and I had a dream in November that compelled me to write about it in March. However benign, edgy, or vague this may sound, I'm trying to communicate something I think might be true. Take this as an invitation to scrutinize.

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When I think about “you”, my mind recedes into its own fog. I can’t help this ugly feeling that I’ll always be waiting to meet “you”. That I’m going to stay “here” between the walls of this empty room, knowing but never internalizing that “you” aren’t coming. And it’s such a stupid, agonizing quirk of my programming. I can stare hard into the flesh of my eyes and explain to the face in the bathroom that “you” exist in the moments between the moments I’ve felt loved by anything, but I won’t believe that. Do you?

And I’m afraid that I’ll never stop waiting. Even though I’m holding the key. Even though the handcuffs are on the floor. I miss you, even when I’m not alone.

And they tell me you’ll be here, any day now. The wallpaper is peeling and the halls are flooding and some sort of droning noise is sinking a knife into the meat of the air, and I’m sitting crossed-legged in the mold on the carpet. Any day now. And I’m trying not to burn a hole in the door.