Idiot people like Angel Delaporte who look for a supernatural reason for ordinary events, those people drive Misty nuts.

That if you could acquire enough, accomplish enough, you’d never want to own or do another thing. That if you could eat or sleep enough, you’d never need more. That if enough people loved you, you’d stop needing love.

Imagine books and music and movies being filtered and homogenized. Certified. Approved for consumption. People will be happy to give up most of their culture for the assurance that the tiny bit that comes through is safe and clean. White noise.

I am Jack's smirking revenge.

Oh love me, love me, love me, love me, love me, love me, love me, love me. I'll be anybody you want me to be.

So if you think this is going to save you...If you think anything is going to save you...Please consider this your final warning.

I wanted to write about the moment when your addictions no longer hide the truth from you. When your whole life breaks down. That's the moment when you have to somehow choose what your life is going to be about.