I want to say to all of them: I could say so many awful things about you, places that no one should go. I would probably start with the sex and move onto things in the brain. But even though all those things are true, I don't really mean it. I'm just sad that you were so shitty to me and I'm sad that I've gotten used to being sad, that I have to cope. I wonder what happened to me to make me so fucked up when my life has really been rather pleasant.