Tis a strange thing, the human soul. Makes one wonder if God (if he exsists) has a cruel sense of houmer. I've spent the last few days examining who or what I am and came to a startling conclusion. I'm not human and I haven't been for a long time. I don't know when the true Andrew Farnum died, but I'm not him. Hmph, it could be that I'm just insane, but I doubt it. I'm all that the psychiatrists were able to piece together from the shattered remnents of who Andrew was, and sadly I have come to understand that I only wear that person's shell of a body. Make no mistake, I have every intention of living my life to the fullest extent, but