# Chapter 7

"Travel, food, and wine. That's my wellspring. I love to travel." he said.

"Go fuck yourself. You're a gluttonous pig and you should die."

That's what I wanted to say.

Instead, I whispered a meaningless: "Oh." And, I followed him up the stairs and laid down and closed my eyes. I felt exhausted. At least, I think I was exhausted. I'm tired of pretense and trying to care. Too many times, I nod my head and smile, and chuckle. I stared at the cracks on the ceiling and waited for them to stop moving and for him to stop shaking. I don't know why I even try anymore. I don't know why I put up with those kinds of people anymore -- and ha! as if I am someone who is deserving to put people in categories. I hate those people who already have everything right in front of them, but they keep wanting more and more and... and... nobody wrong thinks they're wrong. I think I'm that kind of person.

# Chapter 8

I am at the depths of my own hell and I cannot stop thinking.