I see you there, crouching in the corner of my mind. Trying not to make too much noise as you sneak in for an ambush. I'd recognize your stench anywhere. You had me before, but not this time. Not now, not again. I have seen your darkness, felt your hopelessness, lived your hell. I have gone there and come back, scratching and pulling and fighting to get out of your grasp. It will not happen again. So you can sit there, waiting, seething, rotting. I will not give in, I will not fall under your spell. I hate you more than you love me, so go ahead, sit. I can beat you. Staring contest? If I win, you get out.