You would blink and blink again, as if that would changed something, undo the glitch in the matrix, change the words that your ears just heard. You'd ask me to repeat those words, because surely you didn't hear them right, of course you didn't. How could I, me, your friend, be telling you what I'm telling you, and twisting the knife like that. How could I be pulling this blood, these feelings, how could I pry you open on purpose. And it's not that I'm prying you open. If anything I'm prying open myself, letting myself indulge in experiences I'd never dream of. And, yes, there's always going to be collateral damage, and, yes, this time it's you. But it's been me before. And it will be me again. And I know that, somewhere, you understand. Even if you can't see it now for all the blood.
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