I Talk to Myself

Well, I have no else to talk to. I have a son who doesn't have much to do with me, my wife passed away a couple of years ago, and my job is starting to get to me. I work with people who are suffering from mental illness. Some of them have murdered people, and I always have to be cautious. They're not in prison. I work with the ones who didn't go on reason of insanity. They live in a group home together, and I'm in charge of it. Some homes are secure, like the crisis unit, but ours isn't. It's a wonderful job, but it gets to me at times. I come home to basically nothing but a wall to stare at. I actually do talk to myself. It's like I'm playing both roles: the talker, and the one who listens but chimes in with an occasional question to demonstrate interest. I catch myself doing this, then I stop. Once I catch myself, it's like the person I was talking to just walked away.