You can't always get what you want

My father was my hero and the light of my life. He was tall and handsome but a fragile spirit, and he died at 41. His mother was, or still is, Swedish, from a little place called Trollhattan, spelled with one of those dotted a:s. I always thought of it as a very warm place full of trolls and goblins. Troll-heat. My father laughed and humoured me. He promised me he'd take me there some day, but he never did.

You'll be there soon

This is what it's all about, Valentine.

All those people. Their words, their existences. They're everywhere, and I let them get to me so easily. Too easily, I think. But then, when he sings "lie to me, lie to me", it suddenly means so much more than all those mindless fools. I just wish I could forget more often.

**

How have you been? I know I've been away, I'm not proud of it. I wanted to do this, and I still do, but I don't know where it leads me. To be honest I don't even know where I want it to lead me. Until I figure it out I'll just keep talking, deal?

**

Mother called, I guess it sort of changed my life. She said "I know you blame me for your father, but it wasn't like you think". Since then I've thought about what that could possibly mean so many times I can't count them. She's stayed away, so I haven't been able to ask, to confront her, like I wanted to. She never lets me, and that's something I've had to get used to. People always run away from me, they puke opinions about everything but are never there to clean up the mess.

**

That's what we should remember, Valentine. They can never touch us, unless we let them. We need to remember that our obligations to them never existed and never will exist.

Please remind me of that, Valentine. Again and again.