to a.

We get it, dear. You are a freak. A numbskull. A halfwit. You are Billy's little girl. You would die for him. You have already died for him several times over. You fuck in the car. You fuck on the lawn. You fuck on the fucking roof. You think a vial of your own blood is a romantic gift. You think a tattoo of your gross old man of a husband is a romantic gift. You think letting a horse nuzzle your bosom while you throw your mangy head back in ecstasy is a romantic gift. You believe you have bestowed something precious upon this earth, and I'm not referring to the two C-sized somethings you have bestowed. You believe your characters embody your spirit, or is it your spirit that embodies the characters you have betrayed? I mean, portrayed. You collect knives. Quod me nutrit me destruit. We get it. It's wonderful to see you so free, and so unfettered. It's lovely to see you so lovely. Now, my fellow long-haired brunette, it is time to act like the grown-up I know you have chased to your most frightening depths. Let her out, little angel, and join the rest of us here on Earth!