I don’t believe you, no, not really, and it scares me. Maybe it’s not you I’m afraid of, but the idea of you, the shape you take in my mind. And you don’t care. Of course you don’t. Why would you? You’re a creature from another realm, a fiction I keep feeding until it feels real enough to hurt me. Isn’t that where you live, darling? In that other realm where you fuck your lovely whores and never look back? That’s the problem. I’m too jealous to keep up with your ghosts. I’m a crier, darling. That’s what I’ve learned. That’s what I am.