supiegp

[supiegp]

On Joker...

Harrowing... It’s not often that I come out of a movie and have that word come to mind but that’s the over-arching sentiment I was left with after watching Todd Phillips’ Joker. It’s a movie based in a comic-book universe. I did not expect to be left disturbed and perturbed at the end... 

But here I am. 

Let’s get the obvious out of the way first. Joaquin Phoenix as the affected, tragic, mentally ill and broken Arthur Fleck is EXCEPTIONAL. The supporting cast are magnificent, not mere cannon-fodder but nothing more than their roles dictate. No-one steals the show, no-one takes up too much of time aside. As a study in character Joker is intimate, painful and bleak. That bleakness extends to the cinematography by Lawrence Sher, the enigmatic, powerful score by Hildur Guðnadóttir and the writing by Phillips and Scott Silver of The Fighter. This movie is not an easy watch. This movie is not a tent-pole blockbuster, not a money-printing behemoth like Marvel’s Infinity War or an attempt at such like DC’s Justice League. This movie is much smaller scale. Much more personal. It’s actually not like a comic book movie at all.

It’s the charting of one man’s descent into madness and it’s unnerving.

Have you watched A History of Violence? Maybe American History X? Do you remember how revolted you were by the questions they asked of you, and of the questions they made you ask yourself? “Why didn’t someone do anything?”, “Why didn’t anyone see what was wrong?”, “Why didn’t someone help?” and, worst of all, “Why can I relate???”. It’s an incredible talent to explore someone’s tragedy but never let them stray into anti-hero or even hero territory. To make the audience understand someone but never like them. To have the audience empathise with a character but wish his suffering ended in the way he wanted, rather than the way it was forced to. 

Joker never misses a beat.

The comedy is subversive; you feel ashamed to laugh when it’s funny. Much like the story it tells, the “fucking comedy” isn’t funny. It’s painful. It’s bleak. It’s too on-the-nose. It’s too appropriate.

Let’s talk about it. Let’s talk about this bleak, dystopian sometime, a fictional somewhere, that feels so much like right now. Right here. Let’s talk about the Joker developing into the monster that we know and do not love from little more than someone needing, and desperately searching for, help that he doesn’t get. Let’s talk about the very real stigmas attached to mental illness. Let’s talk about the lack of quality care for the poverty-stricken, and while we’re at it let’s talk about the disparities in the quality of life between the haves and the have-nots. Let’s talk about the way we treat each other in this social media age that has us publicly shaming people, the impunity with which we destroy the reputations and pick apart the characters of people we don’t know. Let’s talk about the fact that Todd Phillips’ Joker scares us because it asks us to take responsibility for our roles in creating monsters. Let’s talk about the ultra-violence, so disturbing on the big screen but even more disturbing at the shopping mall or school, on the street corner as you go about your day. Let’s talk about the Joker finding power he otherwise does not have in the pulling of a trigger and the ending of a life. 

Let’s talk about Todd Phillips and Joaquin Phoenix giving us something to talk about. 

Make no mistake; Joker is a seminal movie. A truly great movie; a high-watermark in the genre. In my esteem, perhaps slightly lower than Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight but with scope to improve upon it undergoing the endless rewatches I’ve engaged in with TDK.

Joker is always far from an easy watch.

It is also never anything less than a completely compelling and worthwhile one.

[supiegp]

Work in progress, that’s still in progress.

For years. :’( 

[supiegp]

#Gamechanger. Tauriq Ajam’s, “Mila” 

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Ha Ha Ha Ha.

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Sappi 1plus A4 paper. An old purple clutch pencil. I think it's a Pentel. Artline 200 Fineliner. A dodgy red colour pencil, n the worst sharpener in history.

BMW (E30) 325i

[supiegp]

We've Let the Side Down, Is What We've Done. Part I.

Let me tell you a story. This story involves myself, and a lady - we'll call her PCP, because she was addictive as all hell.

PCP was what, 18 when I met her? 19? Can't quite remember, but I'm inclined to believe it's the former. Anyway, she is, and I think will remain, one of the most attractive people I've ever met. If I had to give her a rank out of 10, it would probably in the region of 1657935489. PHENOMENALLY attractive would be a fitting description, but, as is the way with beautiful things, she had her problems...

PCP had a rough time growing up, from what I can ascertain. She hadn't ever really opened up to me - wasn't her way - but she left the door open on occasion, just enough for me to get a look in. Daddy was an enormously successful businessman, but a philanderer and abusive toward wife and daughters. Mommy was young, very pretty, and decided to fight fire with fire when it came to her husband. Daughters, both of a similar age, had the money and looks to have an easy life. This is where our story begins.

I met PCP through Facebook, as happens nowadays. Hey, I'm a guy, and was single at the time (we'll detail my failings in relationships in a future blog), so when a Friend Request came through, I had no qualms about accepting it. Again, as is done, I had a look at her profile pic, and then, skeptical, had a click through her photos. The skepticism, you see, derived from the fact that - in pics at least - she was unspeakably gorgeous. Anyway, that being what it was - with my interest piqued but not at call-to-action levels - I logged off of Facebook and went about my evening.

At first log on the next morning (roughly 05h30), I was going through my profile for no particular reason. Those of you familiar with Facebook would be familiar with the little Chat thingy - over the speaker came a little, "pop", and the pop-up emerged. From PCP, it said,

"Thank you for accepting my friend request. :)".

(She picked up a bonus point for writing in English, rather than shorthand, and earned a reply from that as well. At this point, though, I was confused. Surely someone that pretty couldn't be surprised that her friend request was accepted? Regardless, I did reply. The conversation/ chat went as follows) 

Me : That's a pleasure. Hi, I'm Sanvir. :) Good morning.

Her : Good morning. :) I'm *PCP*. How are you?

Me : I'm well thank you, and yourself?

Her : I'm good thank you hun. Am I disturbing you? Are you awake?

Me : Well, clearly lol. Unless I'm chatting in my sleep. In which case I will not be held liable for anything I say. What are you up to?

Her : In bed. Can't sleep, and it's so cold. You babe?

Me : At the office. Just got in, making some coffee n listening to music. Swedish House. Greyhound.

Her : Is that new? I'm a big Swedish House fan but I haven't heard a Greyhound?

Me : Yeah, well it hasn't been officially released yet. It's from the Absolut Vodka ad.

Her : Haven't seen that either! :'(

Me : Lol no drama, YouTube it hun.

It obviously went on from that, but that's where this story began. She seems reasonable, no? Alarm bells weren't raised by her calling me, "hun", or, "babe" - I'm fairly used to that - so I was like, "Did that actually just happen? Why is she so pretty and so friendly?". It played on my mind a bit that day, but not unduly, and I'd forgotten about it by the end of the day. Headed home with a clear mind and a free conscience. Little did I know how soon I'd lose that clarity - that freedom. 

On the way home, my Facebook Messenger app was quite literally blowing up - there seemed to be a newfangled interest in me that made me slightly uncomfortable. Thoughts drifted to where I'd been, where I'd danced, where people may have noticed me and decided it was imperative that they get into contact - I'm a rather quiet guy by nature, and not a social animal - but I came up with nothing. Hadn't been out, really, and the constant notifications were irritating the living daylights out of me considering that I'd had my cellphone connected to the head unit in the car and my music was being interrupted. Turned the notifications off, and settled in for the long haul (Rosebank - Lenasia, via Bryanston and the N1 South). Took about two hours, as is the way, and stopped at the gym before going home, had a shower and things and then took my nephew for tuition. Whilst sitting in the car, waiting for him, I was struck by how quiet my phone had been. FUCK! MY NOTIFICATIONS!

How I now wish I hadn't decided to check.

Apart from the usual WhatsApps from friends who'd seen a funny numberplate in traffic, or wanted to get together for a drink, there wasn't anything unusual. Apart from... 24 Messenger notifications, and a further 30 odd from Facebook. Which was QUITE unusual. 19 of those 24 Messenger notifications were from one person. PCP. The messages started off with a,

"Hey handsome."

through to a,

"Very quiet?",

before culminating in a,

"Suppose you must be busy. Have a lovely day handsome. :) Speak later.".

Well... That didn't escalate at all. :/ I was surprised, and pleasantly, too. Replied, of course ("Sorry hun, had a fairly hectic day at work and switched off my notifications. Only got around to checking my phone now.") to which she replied immediately, to say that FB Messenger was annoying, and here was her cell number if I wanted to chat. Did that quicker than seems reasonable, but in my defence I was excruciatingly bored at the time. Got to chatting, and my suspicion was aroused even further than earlier. She was paying wholly too much of attention to me, and she seemed to be one of those girls who could get attention from anyone, so why me? It was at this point that I had to ask the most pertinent question.

Me : Are you a man?

Her : Call me and tell me if I sound like one?

Me : Proves nothing. I can sound like a lady too. I think.

Her : Lol just call me!

Having a fairly high-end contract and no-one to call means that I often call people for no particular reason. So I called, and she didn't sound like a man. She sounded as gorgeous as her pics had led me to believe she was. Oh, spiffy. This was the point you get to where all you can do is say, "Ja. I'm fucked now."

We spoke, we chatted, we called each other every day, we courted, I started calling her, "babe" and she started calling me, "baby", we spoke early doors and just before bed. She seemed perfect. 

She wasn't.

On the surface she was immaculate, she was perfect in every way, shape and form. She's tall, has these beautiful, big, hazel eyes, lips Angelina Jolie would be envious of, and, while she isn't fat, she's all good in all the right places. As a physical specimen, she's peerless. I was quickly swept up, lost in lust and what I suppose could pass for love, and I was hopeless. A forlorn figure when away from her, I did the unforgivable. The irredeemable.

I cared. I cared about something more than what I could see. I set myself up.

Over time, it became clear that whilst we had feelings for each other, only one of us knew what to do with it. I'm a fairly perceptive person, and I'm quick to pick up on subtle changes in personality, behaviour, mindset... I'm especially quick to pick up on when people change toward me - and she did. I suppose that was because she was letting her guard down, and letting me see a little more - but she was becoming cagey. She had more to say, more to tell me about how things were going with her - but the more she said, the more she didn't want to. She spoke about life, she spoke about home, she spoke about family... And she made it very clear that she didn't want to speak about any of that. She made a concerted effort to turn our relationship into something meaningless, something purely physical. The state of undress in the pics I would received had gone from merely provocative to... More than that. The quality in our conversations had disappeared, to be replaced by pure, unadulterated lust - descriptions of sex so graphic I'm not sure they would even find place on the internet. The more she told me the more she tried to push me away. The more I played punching bag, the more she decided she didn't have anger issues. The further in I got, the further away I felt. Genuine, heartfelt care was replaced with an insatiable lust. Remember, she was 18. I wasn't comfortable.

In amongst all of this, I tried harder. I reached deeper within myself, found reserves of patience I didn't know I had, tried to find out why she was such a lost little girl - and how to make it better. I was more attentive, more caring and probably kinder than I've ever been - midnight messages to say I was thinking of her, midday messages to say I cared. She still called me often - if something had upset her, I'd be the first to hear it, and I appreciated that. She called me for less selfish reasons as well - sometimes, with no complaints, to say it's a lovely day and she's sitting on the grass outside. I appreciated that too. But still, I was getting further away. I was being exposed to the façade, and I didn't care for it. She told me that she was an avid weed smoker - but it helped her deal with things. I was irritated - been through a few years more and my fair share of problems without having to resort to any substance - but I reserved judgement. She told me she bunked school to go drinking - I couldn't judge, I did that myself. She told me that she felt best when she had drunken herself into a stupor, and couldn't remember anything the next morning.

I was pissed. I still maintained an interest in this beautiful girl, who had moments when the beauty of her character eclipsed her physical appeal, and I didn't want to hear that. I didn't want to hear that she was getting drunk senseless with guys around.

I was no longer happy. 

Often, she would call me, sobbing. Something had happened. Dad had left home. Mum had argued with her. She wanted to smoke but they'd caught her, so she couldn't. She'd been suspended from school for carrying contraband. She needed something. She wanted something. She needed a friend. She wanted a boyfriend. She need someone to care. She didn't want anyone to care. She wanted a relationship. She just wanted sex.

All I am is what I am. I could be a friend, but I couldn't be a boyfriend - I didn't trust this girl. I could offer late-night conversations, I couldn't offer late-night booty calls. Oh, how I wish I could... How I wish I could be superficial, how I wish it didn't matter... But it did. Lord help me, it did. Her feelings mattered. Mattered so much that mine didn't, any more. I was losing sleep ; this was long after I had lost myself.

It came to a head. I gave everything ; financially, emotionally, morally. I was a spent force, and yet she wanted more. She wanted a physical relationship. She wanted to be treated in the way I didn't want to treat her ; she wanted to be used. This was the point that I realised there’s no real way out of this. I would leave with blood on my hands.

The question was, would it be hers... Or mine?

[supiegp]

Generations.

E30

E36

E46

E92

F82

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Generations.

KPGC10 “Hakosuka”

KPGC110 “Kenmeri”

E-BNR32 “Godzilla”

BCNR33

GF-BNR34

R35

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The last time I recall knowing what was going on , was when I hadn’t yet met her. The interim, everything ‘til present, has been a blizzard. A whiteout. A deluge. Stripped of all direction, I wander. Grasping out in front of me, chasing shadows, longing to feel something… I’ve become an addict. A stormchaser. She’s my perfect storm.

Me, 23/01/15 - 14h09

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45 Tips...

This has been something I read probably about 13 years ago. Wrote it down in a little handbook, which I just found the other day. It's what I live by, and have lived by, and maybe it'll benefit you too.

1. Go for women you perceive to be “out of your league”. You’ll surprise yourself.

2. Never have sex with anyone that doesn't want it as much as you.

3. Never hit anyone unless they are an immediate threat.

4. Every hat should serve a purpose.

5. Never take her to the movies on the first date.

6. Learn to wet shave.

7. Nothing looks more badass than a well-tailored suit.

8. Shave with the grain on the first go-around.

9. Always look a person in the eye when you talk to them.

10. Buy a plunger before you need a plunger.

11. Exercise makes you happy. Run, lift, and play sports.

12. Brush your teeth before you put your tie on.

13. A small amount of your paycheck should go directly to your savings account every month.

14. Call your parents every week.

15. Never wear a clip-on tie.

16. Give a firm handshake.

17. Compliment her shoes.

18. Never leave a pint unfinished.

19. If you aren't confident, fake it. It will come.

20. You can tell the size of a man by the size of things that bother him.

21. Be conscious of your body language.

22. The only reason to ever point a gun at someone is if you intend to shoot them.

23. Always stand to shake someone’s hand.

24. Never lend anything you can’t afford to lose.

25. Ask more than you answer. Everybody likes to talk about themselves.

26. Keep a change of clothes at the office.

27. Buy high quality tools so you only have to buy them once.

28. Manliness is not only being able to take care of yourself but others as well.

29. Go with the decision that will make for a good story.

30. When you walk, look straight ahead, not at your feet.

31. Nice guys don’t finish last. Boring guys do.

32. Find your passion and figure out how to get paid for it.

33. Don’t let the little head do the thinking for the big head.

34. No matter their job or status in life, everyone deserves your respect.

35. The most important thing you can learn is personal responsibility. Bad things happen, it’s your job to overcome them.

36. The first one to get angry loses.

37. Do what needs to be done without complaining. It won’t help speed things up.

38. Never stop learning.

39. Always go out into public dressed like you’re about to meet the love of your life.

40. Don’t change yourself just to make someone happy, unless that someone is you.

41. If you’re the smartest person in the room, you’re in the wrong room.

42. Luck favours the prepared.

43. Women find confidence sexy as hell.

44. Do whatever you want to do in life, but be the best at it.

45. No one is on their deathbed wishing they spent more time at work. Enjoy your life.

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Let's trade places. Supie be spirit, God be flesh, And let's see just how weak the flesh gets. Now you call on me, every night bend your knee - Until you start to realise I ain't answering. Now you hang up the phone, Lord, Pick up the chrome, Lord - can I blame you, Lord, for needing to feed what's yours? Got a wife that you love but you still lust whores, and I'm supposed to judge you, on Earth where it's ugly? You might as well aim at the sky, slug me, 'cos I ain't being a fair God when life is so hard.

paraphrased - One of Us.

[supiegp]

...

[supiegp]

Four days. Terribly excited, but the addiction may soon become a problem.

Wish I was someone more confident, who didn’t have to have his tattoos tell his story.

Ah, well.

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You still are beautiful. You always will be. But something had to give. I came to a realisation... You just aren't my kind of beautiful.

Me, just now.

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I mean,

Would you want to live your life sheltered?

Or

Let it envelope and eat at you

Make you curse out in animosity

Fingers with no fingernails

Permanent worrying

Piercing irritation

Resentment

Anger

Ignorance is bliss.

[supiegp]

But I'm out of my head when you're not around. Part I

I feel old-fashioned. Out of my time. Antiquated. Archaic, even. I feel like I don't belong, and I can't adapt. Adapting would mean abandoning my principles, and I'm not comfortable with that. These principles haven't always stood me in good stead, but they've allowed me the ability to look myself in the mirror and not hate what I see - even after all the dreadful things I've done. 

Technology's killed romance. Society has killed relationships. 

What did I say? Nothing you haven't thought before. This age of instant gratification has fucked everything up. You like it?

I don't.

Instant gratification... I like that term. You hear it all the time. In football, Gary Neville explaining why David Moyes wasn't given more time. In the working environment, where pressure is amped up to ridiculous levels due to the masses of resources available to assist in getting a job done, and the ridiculous expectations of results. In education, with deadlines been shortened ever more - it shouldn't be hard to get an assignment done, since there's Google. It's been used as a symptomatic expression of society today. We all want everything. We all want it now.  

I don't.

I'm... I am old-fashioned. I'm not sure why, but I am. I open doors, I pull out chairs, I buy flowers when we first meet, I offer my seat to an elder. I defer to everyone when walking through a door way, I feel awkward when saying my parent's names, because I know them as mum and dad. I call my elder cousins anna and akka. Maybe I was raised that way, maybe it's the romantic in me that decided this is how I will be. I try to be everything I'm led to believe I should be - a gentleman. What I actually am, is something that isn't appreciated anymore. What I am, is a dinosaur. A relic of the past that doesn't belong here.

What I am, is unhappy.

There are many reasons for this. Chief among which is the fact that, for someone as viciously temperamental and notoriously moody as myself, I seem to have become quite a comfortable doormat. You know the type, the grassy one that stays outside? Not just to be walked on, but to be sullied, muddied by dirt on the shoes that shouldn't be taken inside. I'm a convenience. I'm not part of the home, but I'm there to make sure the home stays clean. I'm not part of your life, but I'm there to make sure you smile when you need it. To fix things. Fix problems. I've always been the go-to-guy. In my youth, you came to me when you needed... Well, anything, isn't it? Drugs, guns, car parts, soldiers, contacts - Sanvir either had them, or knew someone who did. Perhaps in my effort to reform, I brought this upon myself? Perhaps I always needed to be the go-to-guy, but now that I'm not of that lifestyle anymore, I needed to change why you'd come to me? Forgive me my tangent - I'm trying to figure this out, just as you are.

Anyway, fuck it. Back to the point. You came here to be enlightened, not read me rant. What do you think about society today? What do you think about the way we're going, about the way we interact with each other? Are you pleased with what we've done? Are you happy about what we've become?

I fucking hate it. I hate smartphones, I hate satellite television. I hate being inundated with other people's opinions of what I should think, what I should know, what I'm allowed to say. I hate sensationalist media, I hate tabloids. I hate the fact that bad news sells. I  hate the fact that I was born talented, but in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and with the wrong skin colour. I hate that I've been made so negative, and I hate that it was allowed. I hate the people on Twitter that start those "follow chains", and I hate those that retweet every single tweet.

That's actually the crux of it. I hate that I live in a society, that I'm indelibly linked with a generation, that thinks that being popular on Twitter/Facebook/Instagram actually means something. I hate that we're idiots, and some of us can't be bothered to be anything more. I hate that we're so reliant on technology.

I hate, most of all, that I am too.

Off on a tangent again. Forgive me, and tell me something. What's your idea of an ideal date? Mine is sunshine, and a park. A partner, a blanket, and maybe some wine. Woolworths sushi. A good book, and a football to hoof around so I can feel like the man in our relationship. Chasing each other, falling over, piggy-back rides. Laughter. Birds chirping, kids giggling. Conversation while she feeds me. Holding hands. Talking about nothing of any consequence, but concentrating like it's a Maths final. Settling down to an afternoon of reading, as the daylight dwindles, my head on her lap or hers on mine. That's my ideal. Been, as you would imagine, on many dates, but only one ever approached anything like that - and that was at my insistence. Was I happy? Could well have been, had my partner not been moody the entire time. Why was she? I said she had to leave her phone in the car.

ALL OF THAT, even a fine sauvignon blanc, and she was upset that she couldn't chat to her friends/aimlessly refresh her Facebook feed in the hope that something interesting would pop up while we were on a date.

Indeed.

Regardless of all of that, does my ideal date sound like yours? If it does, why aren't we dating? If it doesn't, does it actually matter? Surely not. Because you like what you like, and I like what I do. That's the advantage of being an individual, isn't it? Choice? The fact that we don't have to be like others?

I wear only Levis jeans. I prefer my shoe to be a Carvela, without any markings, so no-one knows what it is. Could buy a replica for next to nothing, but I'd rather spend R1500 on a pair of omree Carvs, that I don't want anyone to know about. So... Why are we still slaves? My forefathers were brought here as slaves. Society still are. Not to a colonial power, though - we're slaves to corporations. And not just some of us. All. Why? Why the closet full of All-Stars, each in a different colour? Why the Crockett that bones for formal functions, or the Dakota with tassles? Why the iPhone, iPod, iPad and any i-related product that comes out? Why would you wait 4 months for a white phone, instead of getting a black one right now?

I wear only Levis jeans because I'm tall, and the 507's/582's are the only jeans I can buy, off the shelf, that fit as I'd like. I wear Carvela's, because I'm from the South of Jo'burg, and it's our shoe. I don't wear it to say that I have money (mainly because I don't), I wear it to say that I'm a Lenz boy. I have my reasons, and I'm glad I do - because I will never be a slave.

Why do we need to fit in? Will St Peter stand outside the pearly gates and say, "That nigga had 100k followers on Twitter, I gotta let him in."? Why do we need trends on social media? Why is our individualism being stifled, why have we gone through all this evolution to become sentient beings, just to disregard the sentience?

Things don't make sense. I grew up, to all intents and purposes, outside. In my early days, playing cricket with the elder bro's in my back yard, riding a bicycle, building box houses that often became real houses when mum locked us outside for not coming in when it got dark. My elder brother almost blew up half the school with a science-class experiment/ rudimentary explosive. My eldest brother blew himself up while experimenting with gunpowder. My storeroom had a window that dad stopped replacing, because we'd hit a cricket ball through it practically every day. I rode a bicycle into a rose bush, was run over by my dog, fell off a wall in a go-kart shell when I was like three. Remember being sure that there were velociraptors in the trees at home for a few weeks after watching Jurassic Park at the old Panorama drive-in. We rode bicycles into the pool. From the roof! And figured out that you can hold your breath longer in warm water than cold, by trying it in a bath tub while on holiday in Cape Town. We did idiotic things, but we learned from them. 

Had my nephew over for an evening last week, during the school holidays. Lovely kid, I adore him. But he was glued to his PSP for the duration. Playing GTA. A seven year old. I remember a great many things from when I was younger, even 17 years later. I certainly remember the Cape Town trip, and I was 6 at the time. Asking him how his holidays were, he couldn't recall a thing. Oh, he had a new game. It's so awesome. He can shoot people, and blow things up. And when he hits people with a baseball bat, they bleed so much. 

Wonderful.

I understand how our parents feel about us. I understand why they hate us sitting on our phones when in company. I understand why they think we're a lost generation.

Because we really are.

TBC

"#FollowForFollow? I'll endorse that only when you're encouraging people to follow you off a cliff."

[supiegp]

You're out of touch, I'm out of time...

"I didn't know you liked me..."

Well, clearly I did, or I wouldn't speak to you. You often speak to people you don't like?

"Okay, but not in thaaat way."

I call you beautiful every morning. I've told you I adore you.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean anything."

That doesn't mean anything? What does?

"I'm flattered, but... Can't we just be friends?"

No. I have no interest in being your friend, I've made this clear. I don't need friends, I have my boys for that.

"I don't wanna lose you. You're a good friend."

I was only ever a good friend because I wasn't trying to be a friend. I will not be a good friend anymore, so you're losing nothing. Let me go.

"Can we start over?"

For what reason? Feelings can't be forced. You can't suddenly have feelings for someone because they're leaving.

"I really don't wanna lose you."

You can't keep me.

"What if I do have feelings for you?"

You should've told me earlier - when it wouldn't have seemed like you're bargaining.

"So I must just let you go?"

Why do you want to keep me?

"You're important to me."

As a fall-back? I'll pass.

"What if I need you?"

That's no surprise. You always did. That's why you've kept me.

"It can't end like this."

It already has.