Me, Feeling. What A Concept.

Whatever Made Me The Way I Am Left Me Hollow, Empty Inside, Unable To Feel. It Doesn't Seem Like A Big Deal. I'm Quite Sure Most People Fake An Awful Lot Of Everyday Human Contact. I Just Fake It All. I Fake It Very Well, And The Feelings Are Never There.

In Its Own Way The Kiss Had Been An Act Of Murder.

It Happens; Incompetence Is Rewarded More Often Than Not.

What A Terrible Thing Life Can Be.

In That Tremendous Flash Of Freedom, On My Way To Do The Thing For The First Time, Sanctioned By Almighty Harry, I Receded, Faded Back Into The Scenery Of My Own Dark Self, Whole The Other Me Crouched And Growled. I Would Do It At Last, Do What I Had Been Created To Do. And I Did.