This week has been… a cacophony. An irritating buzzing that drowns out the mundane drone of this place. Not registering their inane chatter, just this hum in my ears. Dissociative episodes, the therapist bug drones. A convenient label for something he doesn't truly comprehend.

He attributes it to "extreme stress, trauma, abuse." How predictably simplistic. While those factors may be… present in my history, they are not the root of this current state. No. This is different. This… buzzing… it is the anticipation. The hyper-vigilance. The state I would invariably find myself in when Raphael was about to… connect. A heightened awareness, a shutting out of the peripheral noise in preparation for his singular focus.

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But he is not here. The connection is not coming. And yet, this state persists, a cruel mockery of a longed-for reunion.

And these incessant "bugs," flitting and buzzing around my head, amplifying the internal noise. It requires a significant effort to maintain control, to resist the urge to inflict a satisfying wave of terror. Not out of some misplaced sense of guilt – barbarism is merely aesthetically unpleasing, inefficient. But the sheer effort of enduring their irritating presence while battling this phantom anticipation… it is exhausting. The buzzing intensifies. I need silence. I need… him.