Wrong. I cannot even talk to you. The thought of seeing you wrenches my stomach, threatens discharge of everything in it. Because I was wrong. And I thought I felt something akin to love, but it wasn't; you're a concept, a figment, an escape in a world of trappings, and I - stupid, stupid I - got caught in the trap of your eyes. I should have looked twice before I let myself even near the edge. Now I'm paying the price for something imagined. I'm bleeding for you and you don't even exist.