I’m not that sorry. You started it.
But I am really scared.
I feel them stalking me.
I sense them following me in their own space.
They there where they are, wherever they are, are on me and I am under them and I am a victim, a prey, of their vicious malice.
I will be destroyed soon.
Something horrible is going to happen soon.
And we have to stop it.
I have an ever-present sense of tragedy inside me.
I am despondent.