You want me to sit here?
Can I smoke?
Where do you want me to start?
I'm 23 years old,
and I still don't understand what it is that people do.
It's as if all of this were built on nothing and...
nothing were holding all this together.
I grew up around here.
Apartments are nice. Some of them have balconies.
And the trees are nice.
I don't understand them either, but I like 'em.
I think I'd like 'em all.
It'd have to be a pretty fucked up tree for me not to like it.
Sometimes I wonder if life was wasted on me.
It's not that I'm dumb to the beauty of things.
I take all the beautiful things to heart,
and then they fuck my heart till I about die from it.
It's just something in me has always drawn me away...
until there's nothing holding me together.
You know where you're going, right?
Make the first left three times. You can't go wrong.
I'll meet you in the parking lot. Two or three minutes, give or take.
I'm in a baseball hat.
Red scarf, white button down shirt, blue hoodie.
Some jeans, old sneakers. Nothing out of the ordinary.
The scarf is to cover the lower half of my face.
Although it's a little late for it to do any good.
I've been at this a while now.
And it's no secret what my face looks like.
All right, no alarms! I'm a wanted man! They'll kill me!
My God. What is happening?
I got a lot of sadness in the face to make up for,
so I gotta act like I'm crazy, or people will think I'm a pussy.
Get on the ground! Get on the fucking ground now!
The one thing about robbing banks is you're mostly robbing women,
so the last thing you wanna be is rude.
Ma'am, it's nothing personal.
That's okay. What's your name?
Vanessa. Hey, Vanessa. It's nice to meet you.
What's your name?
You're funny, Vanessa. Now, open your fucking drawer.
As I stood there holding a gun, taking her in...
something overtook me.
Like a kind of sadness.
It's... as if I'd always known that this was how things were supposed to end.
But I wasn't made to realize it until that exact...
The first time I saw Emily, I was attending one of the local universities.
The one with the Jesuits. It was a decent school.
And I don't wanna tell lies,
but I thought, "Man, I'd really like to fuck this girl."
Called your name, like, ten times.
Sorry. My music was loud.
Hey. I like your sweater.
Thank you. I got it on Coventry.
It's an old, sad bastard sweater.
You're in my English class.
I know. Class sucks though, right?
Yeah. But you always go.
Yes, I do.
I guess I'll see you around.
Hey, where are you from?
Elba, New York.
What's that like?
Same kinda lake. Same kinda town. Just... little bit shittier.
I've had a girlfriend since high school.
Really? That's sweet.
Yeah, she goes to school in New Jersey.
She got a name?
Yeah. Madison Kowalski.
She's really pretty.
Yeah. Super pretty.
I really liked Emily,
but I'd already promised Madison I'd catch the Greyhound bus
and go and visit her at school that weekend.
She was staying in a dorm room, and her bed was too small for two people,
at least her roommate had gone home, because...
Her grandmother died.
That's too bad.
Whatever. She was old.
tell Madison I said hello.
Madison thought I was a bitch.
The parties she took me to were mostly shit.
The kids drank beer in a basement done out in cinder block.
Some kind of beer pong, sex dungeon, red light district bullshit.
Everything was dismal as murder.
All these random dudes knew Madison.
She'd only been at the school a month, but they all knew her somehow.
She liked every eye in the room on her, which is fine. Whatever.
It just got a little awkward when you were the one who was there at the party
with the girl who is on top of the table, fucking a ghost.
I had a job, and I'd go to work when I could have been doing better things,
such as anything. But...
I had to work.
Old Man Fatook had half a dozen daughters and granddaughters,
and they all worked at his restaurant.
I don't know if he had any grandsons, but if he did, none of them worked there.
All of the granddaughters drove Escalades or Denalis or whatever.
Some of the waiters dated 'em.
And she likes to take it up the ass.
Shove her face down in the pillow. Spit on her.
I think she's really fucking crazy.
I wonder who taught her all that shit.
Come on. Let me see you do it.
Oh, no. Fuck, shit. Shit! Fuck!
Are you a man or what?
Throw it high. High!
So they can hear it in the dining room, cocksucker.
Fuck this guy. Yeah, I know. Fuck him. Fuck him.
I only lasted two weeks.
After work I went by James Lightfoot's house.
He was my best friend since grade school.
His dad had died when he was young and...
and so did his mother. And then...
And then his brother came back all fucked from the war,
so James is mostly alone.
Except for me.
You okay? Yeah.
I needed a ride to the bank, so James offered to take me.
The sun was shining on us that day.
And Roy also came.
He painted houses, but he wasn't working.