He wrote me at some point and told me he gave our book to the guy who wrote that book that that cunt Oprah bastardized. I shouldn't call her a cunt. I don't know Oprah. I don't want to fucking know Oprah. Frey, that's the guy's name and I never read his book but I certainly heard about it. I remember hearing from people that I should read the book when it came out, when it became an obsession - from people who thought it would help me get over my "problems." My "problems." Fucking wow. A Million Little Pieces. I read the wiki article on it and on him because I think in the end, me and Burn are going to have to meet him - because I feel like we are going to need him - a bright shining star to help us shine because I feel like that's how it works. That has to be how it works.
Or not, I don't fucking know. Burn keeps sending me these shorts that he says he wants to go shoot and make and bring me to life. I don't know what to say about that. He says he wants to being Jenny to life - to make her real - as if she wasn't real enough already, as if everything that happened between her and me wasn't real enough already. I don't know what to tell him. I think so much of everything is so fucked up. Burn is coming to Berlin and I am going to meet him. It's strange to think about. It makes me nauseous. Fucking nauseous because of the promises we made - because of the world we have to live up to. And now every time I see him, I have to become all and everything I am capable of and I think he feels the same way. We would be crazy if we told you that this was light...any of it...any of the time.
He said we might need a new chapter. Might. I guess it depends on how this turns out. I'm worried. Because at times I have no control, and I'm afraid about bringing him in on that...pretty Burn, safe Burn, collected Burn.
We have no choice but to rip this apart - any part of the world that dare host us. Berlin. Hello. Here we come.
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