I told my therapist. I just couldn’t take it anymore.
“There’s this guy, Impi,” I said. “He’s been causing trouble.”
Like it’s an actual bloody person.
Well, I couldn’t keep making shit up. It’s fucking stressful, all of this. I needed to talk about it. The secrecy and the precautions and the thousand-and-one plan Z’s… Frank is a smart guy. Really smart. But if he went hands on for just a week, maybe he wouldn’t be so fucking ambitious.
All this creepy shit, it’s getting to me. I can’t believe I’m saying that, but it’s true. And now Frank wants to unbox it? Fuck off. It gets any smarter than it already is…
Man. This is a mess.