[A late-night burst of thought]

Suddenly, like the closing seconds of a thrilling movie where the music becomes more dramatic and the flashbacks begin kicking in, it all slowly becomes clear. Over the years, he has done absolutely nothing for me. He has caused me pain and anguish and tears, and hapiness and joy and contentment and delusions of mediocrity and false hope and absolutely nothing. And I have caused the same nothing for him. We are inherently bound together, bound by nothing. We are as similar as possible while being nothing alike. He is my antithesis and my completion. He is my antithesis and completion. I am his antithesis and completion. He is. I am. He is mine and I am his and together we will wrench ourselves apart like violence. We are alone. We are alone, my nemesis and I, my ally and me. Facing each other in the blankness of nonexistence and staring at each other and we are alone as the camera in your minds eye circles us rapidly. The one thought that keeps us alive will kill us. But I am the master of my fate, the captain of my soul. I am the demon in my heart, the monster in my mind. I am the creator of my love, and the destruction of my hope. I am the sad tale of truth. We are not alone. We are accompanied and enslaved by something that we are not and that we entirely are. Enslaved and yet enraptured, freed. I face him, and I am him. And he is me, and we do not exist. We are someone else's scitzoprehnia.