I line my shoes up carefully when I enter so you can’t tell I’m angry. But I’m neurotic, babe, and I have been all along. I wish I was sitting by the water and I wish I was crying but I’m not and I’m not and I’m not angry I’m just filled with the unconscious desire to grab your head and twist it too far to the right for you to breathe but it doesn’t surface until I see you shut the door behind you. I punch the air and I want a car to come and just get it over with but there’s no cars. So I cross the street. So I cross the street and I **** it up and I wish you’d think I’m dead. Just for a second.