Miss you former self. You never could dress yourself appropriately, and I liked that about you because you were too interested in whiskey to care. I also miss the people who were there, and am psyched on the ones who contacted me today.
I don't even know if it's finished, but I've had enough.
Sometimes you've got to kill four or five thousand men before you somehow get to believe that the sparrow is immortal, money is piss and that you have been wasting your time.