Sometimes I stare into the abyss of space, plagued by a terrible fear. In this waking nightmare, everything you said to me and everything you felt for me was a lie. But what was the nature of these lies? Were they manipulations wrought by ambition? Were they hateful machinations of vengeance? Or, worst of all, were they self-delusions? Did I merely ascribe to you words and feelings that were, in fact, my own?