There’s an endless well of misery for you to draw from. Don’t worry if you build up a tolerance to one of them, because there a million little miseries that you can use. If the picture of him and her fucking doesn’t get to you anymore (and how can it not? Remember all the times she told you she loved you? Remember how good it was for so
long? You can never go back to that.) You’ve still got a lifetime’s worth of disappointments and fuck-ups to use to sharpen your blade. Then take it out to cut the children out of the stomachs of all the women. End the virus before it gets stronger. You can do it. I’ll show you how. You need me. Want another misery? Where should we start? Childhood. You were awkward and your parents didn’t love you. I’ve heard the story a million fucking times. Quit whining and do something about it, you fucking pussy. Sharpen your blade and we’re going to turn this around. You can be the one in charge. Stick with me.