Oh dear. It's not that I can't handle silence. It's not that I'm afraid of what's in my head. It's not feeling overwhelmed by loneliness. It's not anxiety for what's to come. It's dread. It's a hopeless void that somehow infinitely recurs. It's hearing and seeing all the same things under the sun, and facing the impossibility of escape. There's an unbridgeable void between the world of logic and the