If you watch something through film it's like living it another time. If you record something happy you can watch it and relive it again.

And again, and again, and again, and again.

Sometimes you can film, no, not the right word, you can capture a time when you were happy and alive, and nothing was wrong. That's why film is amazing. That's why I hate working for that damn show. They turn film into something wicked.

Something that destroys people.

They use it to discover the secrets of those few people who supposedly matter. Alexi says I'm wrong. She seems to think she's doing right in this world. She doesn't understand the layers of the Earth. She lives in the first layer. The layer filled with anorexic bitches who sing and flail around the television, and the men pumped full of steroids.

That's her world.

I live differently. I hear things. Unlike Roger. Psk. He's the songwriter, yet I'm the one with Angels voice ringing through my head. He doesn't understand. He ran away. Bought a damn car and went off to God knows where to do God know what just so then he wouldn't have to deal with life.

I've got news for you, Roger; you can't run from your own life.

Maureen's just the same. She uses you. She'll cling to whoever will give her their love, and then when she's soaked up all feelings you could ever have, she leaves and goes on to her next victim. Yeah, she's kind of like that. Just a bit.

How the hell did we get here? How the hell? Wait, I've already asked myself that question a thousand times. It was Christmas. Christmas Eve last year. I already knew that. I was the one who watched the entire thing enfold. Jesus, I hate being the observer.

I hate it.

But I still love film. Film can capture things. You don't have to worry about being in the present with film. All that matters is those memories you left behind. No drugs, no disease, no death. Definitely no death. Just bliss. And you don't have to savor it, no. All you have to do is rewind your sultry silver screen and watch those magnificent misplaced memories again.

And again and again and again…