I was always prone to let myself drown by my own misery. I had mastered the art of self-pity. And in all those years living like this, I had found joy. It was my secret happy place, even if others would disagree. I had found the place, or rather the state of being, in which I was comfortable with myself. A place I would escape to gather my thoughts and in many ways a place where I felt understood. I was well aware of all my wrongdoings and flaws, and there was no one there to judge me. I was never a bad person. One might think you have to be a murderer or a bad parent to find in the mold. I had never killed anyone or anything, except for the annoying flies and bloodthirsty mosquitoes. I always thought I was too good or too weak to go for bigger victims, it's up to you to decide. And then again, whatever you think of me, doesn't bother me at night. I sleep well like most of you. Despite the occasional nightmare, I sleep safe and sound. I had always been able to move in the ...