Try just once, Nicole. You're in the world, this world, only once, Nicole. In a summer resort house (!) you're complaining about your two-plus week vacation. Some mystery girl. Some super-heroine. Go to a mirror. Go see a worthless girl. Go see a clear-cut, open-shut case in support of mass white suicide.
I'm not angry, I'm not upset, I don't hate you. I don't even know you, really. Listen, listen for once, this once: no, there's no reason for you to exist; as far as you know, everything that's ever happened to you is illusion----there were no good times, no bad times, only Saint Sameness, and our worthless senses of perception.
I'm not exactly sad, no, I am animated and realistic, masking my outrage for the sake of passing for a kind man, practicing kind acts only because there's no other choice available to me.
Don't look back, Nicole. And you probably don't want to look forward, either. We Love You.
