Jack.

I am somewhat impatient.

If you have a minute, I'd like to tell you a bit about myself.

I am alone. For all ideals and purposes, I am content with it. I am used to it.

Before I became a isolated hermit of life, I held two passions. One was entertaining. No matter my relation to persons, I can find myself amusing or surprising them with ease.

The irony is bitter enough to taste.

…

I paused there in order to give you a chance to speak to me, but it appears as though this is a monologue. Ah, well, I'll carry on then.

In case you're wondering, my second passion is a female named Rebecca. I'll get into that later.

I face the same problems that everyone else does, as days go by. But unlike others, I enjoy no warmth of company. I reside in cold shadows.

Ick. That disgusts me. I dislike how society had made using the word shadow in any form other then it's literal form drips it with cliche and sarcasm.

But as I was saying…others have friends or associates to back them up. I don't.

I know you don't want to sit there and hear me describe my otherwise utterly boring lifestyle to you in such a monotonous method, so I was attempt to use a interesting allegory to describe myself.

I used to be very gregarious. I found social conduct exciting. I used to enjoy the company of others. Now, I only find joy in the company of myself.

My mind is very distracted by a green box on the other end of this room. I want to be it's friend more then anything I've ever wanted. I approach it.

But mostly confused.

You aren't awaiting my continuation, are you? You're a better friend then I thought.

Possibly better then Mr. Green Door.

I briefly attempt to think of something to think. Nothing worthwhile emerges.

I haven't talked to anyone lately but at least I can solve my own problems.

Geronimo!

Luckily, no one was watching as I hopped around like a mad man.

I search for reasons why I don't desire companionship. I settle on avoidance of the issue. I can clearly get by without others, anyways.

I find myself unable to leave the question alone. Why can I not be with other people?

I've gotten used to the idea of solving mental problems, but I still enjoy a test of physical abilities here and there.

I think back to the first day I met Rebecca. We did not know it then, but our paths converged, and suddenly, we were a team. This was before I was as reclusive as I have become today, so I had not learned to truly multitask yet. That talent grew out of simple necessity.Her approach was quiet, as was my response. The bond was instant and unmistakable. A team.

Mutual.

Perfect.

I wasn't ready to let it go.

When we faced a problem, we would solve it together. Today, I find myself solving the same problems alone.

I was unappreciative. Plain and simple. Didn't understand jsut how much I needed her. How much she needed me.

It was perfect. Everything, It was all perfect.

I..I never expected the end to come so quickly.

Crushed with guilt, I didn't step outside for days.

But she was gone.

And now I find myself alone. I can't handle talking to people anymore.

Except you, of course. You're a very good listener, you know that? Not once have you tried to interrupt.

I push myself through a checkered ribbon tied to two trees. Internally, I visualize an overexcited man yelling, "Checkpoint!"

I grudgingly consider how the ability to start over from a different perspective would have been helpful earlier in my life. Maybe I could have not lost my mother.

Maybe I could have let Rebecca never meet me in the first place.

And therefore, I continue.

The person in front of me gets up. My friend, where are you..he's heading towards the door!

What? Don't leave yet, I have more to say.

I really do!

Oh my. He turned. I see his eyes. He turns back. Walks away. They were grey. Harsh. They carried no pity.

Are you..really leaving?

For the last 7 years, I have been psychoanalyzing Jack after his mental diagnosis and breakdown. It occured right after the incident. Surprisingly, Jack recalls his life with amazing accuracy, whatever he tells me during our visits matches his records exactly.

The issue is that he never seems to remember our previous visits. Each and every week, I've met Jack, and he greets me with a overzealous welcome, such as one you would send to guests, and tells me the same things he's said before as if we're never met previously.

He describes himself as a loner. While unegotistical, it is entirly true since he has been under solitary confinement since the incident.

His stories always talk about his life beforehand, and eventually turns into a story about his loved one, Rebecca.

He understands that she died, this is the incident of course, and he obviously emits a certain vague responsibility for it. However, he doesn't recall that he murdered her. She was found buried in a green package in the backyard of their home, evidently, it was the only makeshift coffin Jack could find.

He considers her death to be the very reason he cannot speak to people regualrly anymore. In a way, I consider him correct. The incident brought about a severe change in Jack's nature.

I must now take my leave.

The person leaves, and suddenly I don't have anymore to tell my story to anymore.
Who was he, anyways?

My mind is very distracted by a green box on the other end of this room. I want to be it's friend more then anything I've ever wanted. I approach it…

Author's Note: Based on The Company of Myself, by Eli Piilonen.

My aim is for you to solve the mystery of Jack.

Set him free.

P.S. Any grammar errors you find, please post. <3