The counter-effect of estrangement, which fell like a bolt over my life, is rumination. We do not speak, and I think about them all of the time. This is the underside of the rock, where the ants live. I think insane thoughts, thoughts which run counter to some of my most cherished values: I think, My life is an animal that does not make sense. I think, blood is the only relationship that exists. I think, everything that made me is contaminated. I think worse things. I chew it over. I want to reenact everything and play every part. I want to do it again. I want to repeat the actions that produced the initial desire for repetition. I want infinite pity from an infinite audience of tireless sympathizers. I want to instantly dismiss anyone who would attempt to provide me with comfort or assistance, to hustle them offstage with a vaudevillian hook and a ticket out of town. I want to chew the bone. I want to bite any hand that would take my bone from me. I want to feel bad and never better. I want to feel bad and immediately better. Chewing as attachment: I want to never stop biting.