Nothing in the world triggers my obsessive tendencies or stings me so much as when people can’t or won’t tell me about something that I know exists, that I know they know. It drives me to distraction; it gets me with that sinking feeling that makes me want to drink until I don’t exist anymore. Right now I am nursing two unknown secrets.
I know exactly where this all comes from.
It comes from McFarley and the lead pipe; I’ll never get over it as long as I live. I wish I had managed to bash his brains out all over the pavement. God knows I tried. Maybe then I could live with not knowing things. Or maybe then it would be a hundred times worse, I don’t know. But what chance can a five-year-old have in such a situation, anyway?
Forsyth and Failner, I would like to kill you both. I wish you both nothing but ill and hope you get everything you deserve. If you were to read this, you probably wouldn’t even know what I’m talking about. It probably never affected you at all.
But I know.
And for twenty-three years, I have remembered everything about it in ridiculous detail.
We’re getting older, the world’s getting colder;
for the life of me I don’t know the reason why.
Maybe it’s living making us give in;
hearts rolling in and taken back on the tide.
We’re balanced together, ocean upon the sky.