do not remember your own self, dark and passionate and angry. it will only make the job harder. it will only make you love her a little bit more for her grand pronouncements and vitriolic moods. though you must catch her in her lies, you would like to turn away. catch a movie, grab a sandwich, drive through the car wash with the radio blasting. but you live beside the fear, the memory, of how it could all go bad. really bad. on your watch.
i want too much from the job. i want her to like me. i want her to be good. but sometimes she hates me. and sometimes she's rotten.
you still have to feed her and love her and let her spill the messy contents of her heart all over you. and you have to pretend that it doesn't faze you. that you're not bothered by the gore. and when it's quiet, when the coast is clear, you can make a mad dash for mexico. . .
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