When you’re ugly, and someone loves you, you know they love you for who you are. Beautiful people never know who to trust.
I don’t believe in fairy tales about chakras or energy or the power of belief. There is no such thing as spirit. We are made of matter and nothing more. We are just another tiny, momentary speck within an indifferent universe.
What if my problem wasn’t that I don’t understand people, but that I don’t like them? What if I was obliged to hurt you for something like this? I mean, physically. I think you’d have to believe afterwards, if you could, that agreeing to participate and then backing out at the critical moment was a mistake. Because that’s what I’m telling you. As clearly as I can.