“no mistake about it, ice is cold; roses are red, i’m in love. and this love is about to carry me off somewhere. the current’s too overpowering; i don’t have any choice. it may very well be a special place, some place i’ve never seen before. danger may be lurking there, something that may end up wounding me deeply, fatally. i might end up losing everything. but there’s no turning back. i can only go with the flow. even if it means i’ll be gone forever”—haruki murakami
I’m not sure what I am. I just know there’s something dark in me. I hide it. I certainly don’t talk about it, but it’s there always, this Dark Passenger. And when he’s driving, I feel alive, half sick with the thrill of complete wrongness. I don’t fight him, I don’t want to. He’s all I’ve got. Nothing else could love me, not even… especially not me. Or is that just a lie the Dark Passenger tells me? Because lately there are these moments when I feel connected to something else… someone. It’s like the mask is slipping and things… people… who never mattered before are suddenly starting to matter. It scares the hell out of me.