Color drained away in a monochromatic assault upon my perception. The great tragedy lay in the fact that it was my mind mounting the assault. And it isn’t the sadness or the madness which pierces the deepest, it’s the regret. The regret that the inertial nature of all that unhinges a man is not daunted by the knowledge of it’s coming. It need not gather any resolve nor steel itself against resistance because it is like time; it will come whether we will it or not and move on without a thought.

…while there is no such thing as neutrality in the telling of history, there is such a thing as objectivity, and the varied interpretations of historical evidence are yet susceptible to generally agreed upon procedures of verification that allow us to challenge others’ reading of the evidence.

Let’s pick up shortly after I got married.

Words are important. Without them, our lives are nothing more than reflections cast upon walls by firelight, the shadows gagging our impressions of reality, veiling the truth in obscurity and fear.

Descents into madness aren’t for the faint of heart, but they aren’t for the courageous either. Madness is the shanty town of the hopeless. We’ve all taken strolls down it’s muddy streets, rutted by the wagons of the collectors of the dead, ramshackle walls built around the broken dreams and silent screams of fates table scraps.