He got started, but found it wasn’t quite engaging enough to stop his mind from producing thoughts. He groaned, dramatically, and accepted his fate. His thoughts were going to run away from him today. Until a customer walked in and provided him with something to do, he would be stuck hearing his inner voice regale him with stories of himself. The self he was trying very hard to leave behind. The self with a scar on his arm that itched when his inner voice got too loud. The self that the world—rightfully—knew him to be, and—also rightfully—hated him for.