ONEOFF 1
Our presence here is all vain glory If you've ever been really angry, you know how it feels to lose control. There's nothing, except the red, the heat, the choppy film you'll spend the next few weeks reeling back and regretting, the venom. You can't stop – it's impossible, the words have a will of their own – pouring out like a flood of insects from the rotten heart in your chest. They want to be said. “She wasn't real! None of them were real! They're actors, they're constructs, t-they're...” “ Wasn't real? Wasn't real? The past sixteen fucking years, were those real? Walking her to school every fucking morning, was that real? Ten fucking feet of hemp ar-” “ She's not real! Can't you see? She's an archetype, not a person, she-” “ Archetype? Are you fucking - The one fucking thing in the entire world I love, and that's all you have to say? Save your philosophy lessons, I don't care anymore.” “Plea