It's salt. Why don't you sprinkle some on me, honey? Aren't I just good enough to eat? - Grant Morrison

Abandon the 'I', because it's a lie.

"Hell is only the Cringe Eternal and the Place of our Self's Undoing. When Nietzsche proclaimed "God is Dead!" he forgot to add that Satan is also dead and we are free from all that antique tat."

I take to patrolling the corridors between the hours of three and four in the morning. I visit the secret room often in order that I might keep my journal up to date. Routine is important, I think. A good routine diverts the mind from morbid imaginings. Sometimes I am sure I hear hysterical laughter from a cell I know to be empty.

I tape over the mirror in my study. The laughter ceases.

And I return to my ritual perambulations. My movements through the house have become as formalized as ballet and I feel that I have become an essential part of some incomprehensible biological process. The house is an organism, hungry for madness. It is the maze that dreams. And I am lost.