I've been so afraid, my love,nI must confess so afraidnI've given in to this sickness of invisibilitynI exist now only in a memorynI fear the simplest things like waking from a dreamnbecause I somewhat can't find a firm grip on realitynI view myself as an old friends whom I once loved but no who is deadnAnd I just can't face my own grave, wilted flowers in hand, mourning something I have quite lost yet.