You Have One Message
I dreamed these characters one night, then Dick Wolf stole them from my dream. Legally I don't own them. Spiritually they are MINE MINE MINE!
Eames, hi. It's Bobby. Not there, huh? All right. Just listen then.
I didn't mean to pry, but I went over your photo albums in your place, you know, to see where all he had gone. It's really a gross idea; sorry you have to go through this shit.
Eames, there's a timeline here. I saw it in your pictures. You were happier once. Just after you married Joe, you were a lot happier. The thing is, it's, you were unhappy before Joe died. About three years into it. You were happy, you had friends and girlfriends, and suddenly, it's just you in the pictures, you and your family. You never let friends in anymore. I don't know what happened, but I think I can guess.
I wish I could talk to you about being happy. I wish I could talk to the person you were when you first got married. I want—so much—to talk to that little girl you used to be, secrets and plans and dreams and—just, joy. Sometimes I wish people were like puzzles. You know, in the box they're broken in pieces, but you know they can be whole, they will be whole, and you know without a doubt the way it should be, and you know without a doubt it will be that way with a little effort, and then it's so pretty, with puppies or kitties or whatnot. I felt that for a long time, about my mom, my brother.
Do you know, the only really strong emotion you've shown me in the last few days is anger? You caught me watching that deposition, and I'll say right now it sucked that I did that to you again. You had every right to be pissed as hell. But Alex, anger and all that shit only gets someone so far. Where's the happiness? I think . . . I think it's. . . brave to try to be happy. I wish I could . . . see that in you.
The way things are sucks. It sucks that your go-to gear is anger. It sucks that you had to change to survive. It sucks I'm not in a position to help you. And don't try to say, "oh, look at you, you're not dancing on rooftops and humming merry tunes." I'm not you're right, but Eames, I am only just now discovering life after total shit, and it's still frightening sometimes, and I don't want that for you. There's this big hole, and I'm your friend in here with you, and I don't know the way out. I think that's what sucks worst.
Aaanyway—why am I calling? I have no idea. Just—just think for a sec about what I said, okay? Enjoy your weekend. Bye.