How do you get a crazy person to leave their house at midnight?

Do anything.

It's been over a year since the whole "fiasco" went down. To me, it seems obligatory that I make mention of it somewhere. Though it hardly seems like an obligation to my past anymore. It hardly seems like anything at all. I wonder if that is a good, or bad thing? I wonder if I am different in some incurable way, now?
It is hard for me to remember it at all, really, even if only to give nod to the fact it existed. It took long even to remember enough to know it happened over a year from now. It seems like no time has passed at all, and yet so much has changed. The past won't help me now, oh no, it would really only make things worse.
But that is not what this post is about.

I want to welcome you back to the present with the sentiment that I am still absolutely insane. And for all my talking about not living in the past, there are certain things I cannot let go.
It started with a melody, if it could even be called that. Musical notes, heard out the window. I should not have to explain what comes next, I'm sure you know, but it seems I've resigned myself to relating every painful detail.
I couldn't not go. That was really, just out of the question. But when I had gotten out there, the music had stopped. Then started a game I know all too well.
"Play it again. Play it again."
But I think that, I knew he wouldn't.
I walked on, begging for any sign, any at all.
I heard churchbells.
I walked, and I ran, to where they were coming from. There was a light shining, outside the church.
I walked slowly towards it, heart caught in my throat. Head whirling in hope and fear, already planning out what it was I would say to him. One wonders if I would have been able to say anything at all, if I truly did see him there.
I did not.

I walked further, hoping, praying, begging for any sign at all. And none came, as I should be used to by now. I wonder, if I ever truly expect to find him there in the middle of the night. But I remember that feeling in my chest and I no longer have doubts.
I ended the journey as I always do, hissing out into the night, "Come and find me."
I always mean it, at the time. And yet, in the middle of the night, I am unable to stop myself running out at any sign. Clinging at any chance.
Not just for him, but for all of it. I do wonder how long I would have to consider it before agreeing to go back.
My answer is always different.

I think that inside everyone there is a profoundly different world, something that though we may want to share it, may not be able to be shown to anyone else. As if it could possibly be understood. Being as I am, I want to learn these worlds and know them. But I must ask myself if I would be so forthcoming at the ends of someone else's inquiries.
Thinking about what I know, what possible harm could come from someone misusing, or misunderstanding that information?
That answer is always different.