My shrink listens patiently. I've almost never been happy. I need to feel safe to feel happy. I like locked rooms and bright lighting. I don't like people. I'm trapped by fear. He returns to the room naked and sits opposite me again. He says nothing but I know what he means: Do not be afraid. I lay my head in his lap and hold him, looking into the log fire. I start to feel better, then he is gone. I'm alone again. Was he not real?
It's winter and it's been snowing. A large, unfinished wooden-framed house is before me; it's my house. A voice tells me "Abandoning your fake self is like burning down a beautiful, architecturally designed house. You have spent so long designing and constructing it, you are horrified by the thought of its destruction, the waste." I walk toward the house and set fire to it. I feel the heat of the fire but I'm trembling, shivering. The flames illuminate the tracks of my tears.
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