It is all but a facade you see before you.  Naught but an illusion.  The illusion I have become to hide the pain you inflicted on me.

I can only fondly reminiscence on the time when we were children.  Before death became such a marked part of our lives.  It was not carefree, but it did not have the same complications we have now.

I'm not the narcissist you think I am--I perhaps only wanted to pretend that you were not the core of my existence.

And yet...

I somehow manage to love someone who would throw away that existence without a second thought.  ...Or maybe that is what you want me to believe.

The only belief I ever had was that you and I would bring back the Professor together, and things would go back to the way they used to be.

But perhaps I am not looking for a time in the past.  ...But nor do I know what lies in my future but the manifest of despair.