Jeff? What are you doing here?
I just got back from the carnival, where I met Blade.
Is he okay? How is he?
He’s brain damaged.
Okay, well, let’s not be petty…
No, I’m serious; he showed me the scar. Ten years ago, before he even met you, a loose blot flew off a Ferris wheel and embedded in his skull, destroying the part of his brain…that feels shame. I mean, he’s basically irresistible to people for the same reason he can pretty much only work at a carnival. He has nothing to prove or disprove about himself or to himself. He has no shame.
Why wouldn’t he have told me that?
Because he didn’t care if you knew.
That is so like him! I have to go to him…
No, woman. None of us have to "go to" anyone, and the idea we do is a mental illness we contracted from breath-mint commercials and Sandra Bullock. We can't keep going to each other until we learn to go to ourselves. Stop making our hatred of ourselves someone else's job and just stop hating ourselves.
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