Be gentle. I’m not what I once was. Sigh. You look at me Maybe you see. I move as if I would break. Elderly people move this way. As for me I move so both in and out. It’s the way of us the mad or the once mad. You realize it eventually once you’ve been there and done that. There’s really no going back. Like an alcoholic once one you’re always one. Unlike an ex-booze hound, avoiding situations which threaten your willpower is much harder. You can’t avoid the bar, you’re life IS the bar. You can never get away from it and every day might just be a struggle. It’s more than refusing the bottle at a party it’s everywhere temptation. Slicing the bread for a sandwich passing a park bench —it’s got memories— a picture at the bottom of a drawer a papercut as you open the mail. Dangerous and everyday. So, you see— or don’t see— neither one changes it. I guess I’m a bit more than you bargained for. I’m not sorry. I’ve always thought it would be better if we wore signs instead of coats of armor. The original shine tends to distract the eye.