I can't believe some things go as far as they do. I wish so badly to be alone so often. Powerless and controlled. I feel like a puppet handled by this random fucking wiry asshole Italian who has no job, ambition, pride, or intellect. All he is left with is a strange, meddling, volatile personality, a virus that spreads like some sort of viscous fluid. And she is too lonely and weak to realize any different. Settling on last resorts seldom goes over well. I only want to be free, free or dead--anything else can fade away. To trust in people, for even a minute, is so foolish. On the other hand, at least my capacity for disappointment has diminished. Instead of feeling shocked, I only sense the smirk of fate. And I smirk back in fate's face, and think, I fucking knew it. Don't think you can surprise me.