Prologue

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        It’s funny, not funny funny, but ironically funny, that one of the three emotions I can feel is embarrassment.

        One of the others is anger.

        Oh yes, anger. It fuels me. I can feel it bubble inside me, always ready to flare up at a single irritating notion.

        I know you expect me to say that the last emotion I feel is empathy, or, perhaps, love. But I’m telling you now that it isn’t.

        I feel anger all the time. Sometimes, brief embarrassment. But even less of the time, giddiness.

        Not love. Not even happiness.

        Giddiness. Like floating on air. It lasts only briefly. Even shorter than the momentary embarrassment.

        So there you have it: anger, embarrassment, and giddiness.

        Now, let me tell you why I’m here. Most people outside here- this psychiatric hospital, this high security prison- believe me a monster. They think they know what I’ve done, and maybe I’ve affected their lives.

        I am not going to be fake here. Finally, I can be myself- with no pretense of love or empathy.

        I’ve shown my true colors, now, and there is no going back, no whiting out. I’m alone in the world. No one will have to provide love that I cannot return.

        Welcome to the hellhouse.

        ~Jezza

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