"I'm not ready to sleep, yet. So I guess I'm gonna talk.
I sometimes wonder if there is a purpose to anything. What if we're all just making stuff up, you know? No god, no salvation, no damnation, just nothingness and our imaginations desperately clawing to fill the answerless void. What if ours is the only justice there is? What if we're the machination of all injustice, as well? That's terrifying, because that renders us entirely responsible for our moral compass and the consequences thereof. Maybe we tell stories to help us sleep, so we feel less alone and less in control. I find myself most bothered by my thoughts when I'm lying in my bed, awake. I tell myself stories all the time. Don't we all? Amy?
Oh. You're still awake. Just drunk as hell, huh? Sorry. I'd hate to talk to myself. You're a good listener, actually. Thanks for this. And listen to me go! I'm still coherent!
Anyway. I hate myself. This seems selfish, doesn't it? Because hate is as powerful, if not more so, than love. I mean it. Despite what people say. People say a lot of things. I say, hate motivates you to do things you'd never think yourself capable of. And I say, hate reveals more about yourself than love ever will. You fraternise the most with the things you like the least. By that, I mean you think obsessively about stuff that pisses you off. You could think about nicer things. Things that give you hope and happiness. But that's not nearly as satisfying. Instead, you're occupied with anger, grief, worry, resentment. Wondering about how you're gonna pay the rent or when your husband's gonna get home so you can deck him with that frying pan like you've been aching to do for years because fuck it, you loved him and he promised not to screw somebody other than you. If marriage vows aren't promises, then what's the damn point? You like marriage and all that, don't you, Amy? Can't say I do. I think it's stupid. And I'm unlovable. And lonely. So why should someone else have something I can't? I'm not like you. Well, actually, I suppose you're very lonely but you're so easy to love. Even I…
Hey. Are you asleep yet? You're very quiet. Tell me to shut up if I'm talking too much.
As I was saying. Sometimes, I jerk off until it hurts. Am I being honest? Is this a bit of myself I'm sharing with you or did I just make that up for shock value? How much of this is me and how much of this is authored? You're probably wondering what the fuck would make me say something so personal. Well. I dunno. I'm drunk. Drunk people can't be helped. I drink because it hurts so much to stay sober all the time. And I want pleasure. I crave it. But because I am such scum, I also inflict pain on myself. Punishment. Kinky shit, right? And that's so self-centred, I know. I must love myself a whole lot, to hate myself as passionately and sincerely as I do. To do these things, I've gotta have motivation. Except depression would rather I just plummet until I break my back, leaving me incapable of picking myself back up again, a dead weight, a burden on society. Not that anybody cares. Not really. Amy, you care. I think. Don't you?
Grunt if you're still listening 'cause your eyes are closed. Ah, there you go.
I should talk to Shadow. About my feelings. This bullshit that's inside of me, wanting to spill out and swallow him whole. But I'm scared. I admit it. And I don't know how to talk about my feelings and my inner bullshit. I'm a universe, you realise that? A whole universe of thought. Isn't that amazing? We're all individual little universes in a bigger, grander universe. And we can hardly connect with each other. Shadow is not like the rest of us. He's superior. He's the closest thing to god that I can think of. Do you really believe I could look Shadow in the eye and say, 'Honey, I think I'm madly in love with you and also I'm molesting you or maybe I'm raping you, in a way, but it's complicated'? Amy, I'm so screwed. I dunno how to do this. I dunno what's happening or where I am or what's gonna happen to me or where I'll be.
Sigh if you're awake. Good. I'll be pissed if you leave me alone with myself. Please. But I don't want your pity.
Whatever. I'm just rambling at this point. I wonder… Amy, if you and I swapped lives, would you live mine better? Because I'm living into the ground at this point. Straight down. Gonna fall into space from the bottom of the world. Or the top. Or sideways. It's all relative to a globe. Float away. I'm terrified of being so untethered. I used to look at the night sky and feel fear because of how big and dark it is. Stars aren't cute, comforting little friends. They're balls of fucking fire, lighting your way into oblivious cold. Kinda like this hopelessness I feel when I think about myself and my life and my prospects. I'm too screwed. Too screwed up. Too screwed down. Too screwed sideways. Oh, I know only how to be alone with myself and how to suck the joy out of the people around me. I'm such a pathetic waste of a person. This sack of skin. Beautiful, isn't it – aren't I? Tell me I'm right or tell me I'm wrong. Give me definitive answers. Tell me something. Don't leave it to me to speculate. I can't. I don't want to. Amy, you know things. I think you're secretly very wise, but nobody's taken you seriously. Why would they?
You're warm and I like having you near me, like this. You're like a star. You can cause pain but it's nice to look at you. I'll go blind, not too long from now. And then, what'll you do with me?
Listen. We're all helpless and we're all alone. My momma taught me to be self-sufficient and aloof. She was an abrasive, loving woman. She wouldn't tolerate you very well, but then again, I became close to unbearable, too. And I've remembered that we need to steer our own damn ships because there's no strong, brave mermaids to guide your swim and who the hell can read the star signs, anyway? But there are sirens. I'm a siren. I'm gonna drag you into the rocks, baby, and I'm gonna fuck you until I kill you. But not literally. That'd be messed up, wouldn't it, Amy? Amy. Amy!
Chaos, you're so pretty.
It hurts.
Amy...
Squeeze my breast if you're still alive. Yeah. I thought so."