I'm starting to get sick of the way Susie's head works. Because that's the thing: it's always working . The girl never fucking stops thinking, not for a second. Well, that's not true, I can make her stop thinking, but only when I fuck her. The rest of the time, those little wheels just keep spinning round and round. Can't she see what a fucking waste it is? That's why she's in here. Why the fuck can't she just mellow out, let things go for awhile?

Don't know why I give a shit. I'm getting what I want out of her. I've also been reading her diary, which is a good thing, since she doesn't tell me the fucking half of it. None of them do, of course; no one would ever dare tell Lisa Rowe what they really thought of her. You have to steal your file if you want to get at the information; it's the way the game's played. The only difference between Susie and most of the chicks around here is that she's a little smarter than most of them. She thinks she's smarter than she is, though. She thinks, when she writes all that shit about the "silvery magnetism that can only be the mark of the criminally insane," or how "Lisa, who seems to have more control than any of the patients here, is really more lost than any of the rest of us" – she thinks she's getting these tremendous insights, see, that she's seeing straight into my soul, things no one else could ever see. She never gets that it's fucking bullshit, that she sees exactly what I want her to see. If she thinks I'm lost, it's because acting a little scared sometimes is a good way to keep her watching – oh please Susanna help me, I just can't manage the scary psych ward without you. Jesus Christ, I've been here eight years, but I'm still playing these games with the newbies because they still buy them. Get a girl addicted, then make her feel important. It's the only way to keep them off guard.

Yeah, so it annoys the living shit out of me that she's pulling this analysis crap, but whatever. Some people do, you know? People do what they fucking want to do. Daisy locks herself in her room with her fucking chicken and Polly acts the Pollyanna and Janet swallows water in the shower to bulk up before weigh-ins and who cares, really, who gives a shit? And Jocelyn carries around a baby doll and Susie writes, writes, writes. It's all the same thing, all the same goddamn bullshit. Just give it over, Susie baby, and put your hand right there like a good girl.

They need me in this place. They need me because the shit they use to make them feel alive is also the shit that drives them crazy. If Susanna needs to figure me out and diagnose me in her notebook, who gives a flying fuck, man? She's still fucking me at night, which is all the proof I need that I've got her exactly where I want her.