Those are closed chapters. Over and done with. All those personalities, I am done with them except in memory and have no longer any need for them, nor to speak to them. I do not call I do not write. Except in my head they do not exist. Our paths do not cross, our lines do not connect. With this I am satisfied. I want to be separate from them. I do not hate them. I do not want to forget them. Rather, I do enjoy sitting here in this chair by myself and simply thinking about them. I do not need to see their bodies. I can see them in my mind. All the thoughts and memories are sufficient.

Sometimes in the the middle of the night I play with them. I take their hand again and cross the creeks and the fields, and we collect more dirt on our shoes and more thorns in our socks. And occasionally again in my mind they are mine and I am theirs. In those mid-morning dark hours I can see them as my dreams recreate us as we were.