[Subject is drinking coffee. Looks worn out, tired. Tapping his fingers against table. Unfocused, a little unhinged. Must not encourage this behavior.]
My weekend? It was alright, I guess. I mean, I didn't do much. I didn't do anything other than alienate myself and push people away [laughs]. Is that what you want to hear? That it feels like my head is splitting in two and I want peel away my skin and jump into a tub of fucking salt? Is that good [leans towards recorder]? Is that what you fucking want? What do you want from me?
I am talking about myself. That's all I fucking do for you. All you do, all you've done is ask me questions about a bunch of dumb, crazy, stupid, bullshit. Who cares how I feel about love, or my father, or my grandmother, or my fucking brain. I don't give a shit anymore. But I have to do this right? Right? Tell me I don't have to and I'm out of here. But you won't. I know you won't.
I was watching this movie, uh, I haven't seen it in a while. So, you know, we were sitting there and I thought it'd be a great idea. But it wasn't. It reminded me of things I did not want to remember, you know? And I was fine, I was really, uh, fine, you know? Then this, this goddamn scene had to come up and it got to me. It really fucking got to me.
Don Cheadle is over here, fucking screaming and screaming and just completely freaking out, you know. Then he says something like, "Now what? I'm still miserable, I guess I have to break more stuff" or whatever. And just like, hold on. [Subject extends his hands palm down]
Look at this. Notice the difference? I broke my right knuckle 'cause I've grown up punching shit. Walls, the ground, my skateboards, people, anything. I was just punching stuff all the goddamn time, it was a hobby of mine. Then this one day, I broke my goddamn hand punching through a skateboard on the ground into the concrete and you know what happened? I'll tell you, I didn't stop. No fucking way. I kept going until I was covered in blood and sweat. My friend had to pull me off a goddamn piece of wood, you know?
I liked the pain. I still do. No, I haven't punched anything in a while. But I want to. Yeah, I want to, that's a problem for you? Who the fuck are you aside from some lady that takes me out every once in wh-- [takes a deep breath] Sorry, sorry. I'll get back into it. Sorry, I'm sorry. Fuck. I'm embarrassed.
Anyway, I'm watching this scene and Cheadle is like, "Why are you alive? Do you want to be alive?" or whatever and like, I know there was this really intense close-up of Joseph Gordon-Levitt -- which is pretty effective, you know? In telling the audience that we should be paying attention to how his character is feeling or whatever -- but, like I felt like he was talking to me. And I couldn't answer the fucking question either.
Then I shut the fucking movie off and told my friend to get the fuck out of my house because I needed to be alone. Yeah, real nice, eh? Not really. I'm giant asshole. I'm the goddamn worst, you know?
No, I don't know. I took a walk and chain-smoked cigarettes. You saw my fucking hands, I didn't hit a goddamn thing. Did I want to? Of course I did. Yeah, I know that shit doesn't help. Who cares if it does? You? You going to start telling me you fucking care about me again you goddamn liar [Subject stands up, paces, pulls a cigarette out of his pocket. Puts in mouth. Doesn't light it].
I'm, I don't know. I'm not really in a good place [starts rubbing temples]. I can't fucking do this. Any of this. I'm a fucked up, broken person, and you, you're forced to hang out with me until whatever this is, is over.
You can tell me that all you want but I know you don't want to be here, either.
[Subject sits back down. Takes cigarette out of his mouth. Leans back in his chair. Lunges forward, smashing forehead into table. Bleeding. Must not encourage this behavior].