It could possibly be regret, which swirls around like a constant storm in the back of one's mind. A constanistant nagging guilt, accompanied by the ever famous question: What if...? A question whose answer will constantly be shrouded in a misty black fog, which happens to be composed of one part misery and two parts unanswered questions. These unanswered questions will drive one mad if dwelled on too much, and the mind seems to make a twisted game out of torturing itself. Self indulgent Gloxinia angst. Cross-posted on ao3.