They don't get it. Nobody fucking gets it. I'm in pain. I don't get any kind of recreational benefit from any of this. Not that it matters anymore.
Thank God Cuddy has some sense. Not that God deserves any credit right now.
I'm not letting him get to me. I refuse. See? See? I have principles! I don't let people walk all over me!
Him. I mean them. Both of them.
There are two ways this could go, and both of them scare the shit out of me.
In the meantime, there's always the teacher's pet...
Goddamn it, Greg. You miserable son of a bitch.
I'm going to lose something before it's all said and done. So far my mind seems the most likely candidate.
Happy fucking birthday to me.