Your whacked out bald freaks hit me with a fucking broom! They almost broke my arm! They were burning their fingertips with lye, the stink was unbelievable!
I found freedom. Losing all hope was freedom.
You have a kind of sick desperation in your laugh.
Narrator: When people think you're dying, they really, really listen to you, instead of just...Marla Singer: - instead of just waiting for their turn to speak?
