Black Holes

So many holes in what I remember, in what happens. I feel like I was fighting members of that accursed dragon cult. But I feel like I dreamt it, more than remember it. Almost like I was a passenger, watching myself act. My rage, my anger, felt cold. Dark. And full of hate rather than valor. My desire was to destroy, not to be triumph but to annihilate. And that accursed beast is still with us. It makes me uncomfortable to have that incarnation of evil. But in my bloodlust, it was something more. Again, Hate. Like something similar took something important from me. And always so cold. It's like I have a dark passenger with me, chilling me, and sometimes, I am the passenger, looking for light in darkness. I have started to remember? dream? of times and deeds not my own. I don't think they are my own. Are they my memories? My actions? So cold, so cruel. Especially when I sleep. Always cold in sleep. I imagine this must be how death feels. Dark and cold. Even the hate is cold.