Sometimes, even I, find myself to be not a very pleasant chap. A shadow of sarcasm and hate lies somewhere just below the surface of my skin - not that deep as it happens - waiting for that person who is not as quick of tongue. Things are said that cannot be undone, like white dry caulk on a blackboard. I watch quiescent, as though I’m a stranger to myself. Of course, I feel entirely blameless in a way, as it’s not me, the real me that worries about everything I care about and more.