I have to kiss a girl and break a heart.
Its funny...the idea of hurting people is hurting less and less.
Plasterface promises a full disclosure after Saturday. So theres that at least.
My theory? Plaster is a chunk of me. Maybe he's created in response to a repressed memory, and woke up when I ventured too far into that part of my psyche. Maybe hes my imaginary friend, gone horribly wrong.
Maybe he's a Proxy.
Maybe I'm the Proxy, and he's whats left of me?
Maybe Im Edward Norton, and He's Brad Pitt.
Maybe I'm very, very sick but I hide it very well.
I wish I wasn't going to be sober for this.