Today you came to visit.
I was riding my bike near your home, and I saw you.
I knew it was you because you had some weird tattoos (that I had never seen) in your chest.
You hair was black with some blood-red flocks.
When you saw me, you became visibly uncomfortable.
You said the pressure bothered you, since you were back from your death.
You said you didn't necessarily wanted to love me.
I told you we never did properly loved each other, and we had always been friends.
You said you had schizophrenia.
I said OK.