I think you’re lonely. I think you need a friend. I know I do. My ceaseless compulsions. Monomania. Megalomania. The obsessive drive to control and manipulate every detail of every day. It was exhausting. You were the only one that saw the effort. You’re the only one that ever understood. Maybe I was the only one that ever understood you, too.
Do you know what I remember feeling most of all before I came to reside here?
My constant companion through all the killing and planning and torture and mayhem and rage. Lonely, Batman. Endlessly, ceaselessly lonely.