Like, in general I think people have very complicated reasons for wanting things, and we often have no idea whether weâ€™re actually motivated by altruism or a desire to hook up or a search for answers or what. I always get annoyed when in books or movies characters want clear things for clear reasons, because my experience of humanness is that I always want messy things for messy reasons.
I didnâ€™t need you, you idiot. I picked you. And then you picked me back.
And on the last day, the bad days become so difficult to recall, because one way or another, she had made a life here, just as I had. The town was paper, but the memories were not. All the things Iâ€™d done here, all the love and pity and compassion and violence and spite, kept welling up inside me.