thought i could, i thought i could let you slip un-noticed. i thought we could, i thought we could share something beautiful. was i just a role in your twisted game? well, did i ever get you somewhere or did i ever help you? truelove is fiction. now that i look back on it all it all seams so clear: i was just a helping hand like all of the others. "help me through." you held my hand, you held my hand like we were a couple. i thought i meant, i thought i meant something more than a "psykologist". all the words flew back at me: "...and how are you, how are you? you just keep asking questions." it makes me always remember all...all of...all of those...those bloody letters. i will protect you, from yourself.