Ok. Something is strange. I don't know for sure. But it is. Maybe it's physical. Are you sick? No answer. Ok. Let's suppose it is physical. Does that mean it is some kind of depression? What? I feel great. I don't miss not seeing those people. I am enjoying this freedom, and all my undisturbed self-control. What's wrong with that? It's not something new. Nothing seems wrong!
Well, here I am, analyzing a demon. Don't I know how risky it is? Do I think it is merely a physical thing. Do I not fear that it may be more than that? It's been a while since I annoy her with disdainful attitudes, with my self-sufficient thoughts and ideas, with my apparent power over any manifestation of her conscience in my brain. I wish she wouldn't take me and I still, at this moment, while I write, believe that she won't. This must all be a nightmare. There is no such thing. I can't do it.
For the last time? See her again? What will happen? Do I have the power to seek it in other places? Why would I? I wouldn't, normally. My instincts flee from there. Why would my outer self wish to detach?
Hey! I can have one too. It can work. I won't stay with none! Even if it doesn't work out today it may in the future. Those things always drop like rain from the sky! I can't believe this. This is an illusion. I will burn the book if it insists in bringing her over here. I am pretty well without her. No need for any more ghosts in this land!