When you are alone with yourself all the time, with no one but yourself, you begin to go deeper and deeper into yourself until you lose yourself. It’s a perverse contradiction. It’s like your ego begins to disintegrate until you have no ego. Not in the sense that you become humble or gain some kind of perspective, but that you literally lose your sense of self.
I think, therefore I am. I think too much, therefore I am not. I am not, therefore I am nothing. I am nothing, therefore I am dead. And if I am dead, then why am I still so goddamn lonely?
I don’t truly know what I did or didn’t do. I can say I am a convicted murderer, which is true. I am convicted. And I can say that I killed her, too… Hanna… which I have said more than once. And I can even imagine that I killed her, which I have imagined, because that’s what I’ve been asked to do multiple times. But I honestly can’t say that I did, in fact, kill her. Because I just don’t remember, for the life of me.