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“What? What does that have to do with anything?” (P.S. I’m still pointing a gun at Berlin’s head. Let’s not lose sight of the moment, even though we’re having a deep conversation about my lot or meaning in life. I’m still a maniac with a pistol!) “Ben, I saw you and the look in your eyes looked the same as the one in Archie’s.” “Archie? Who the h#&@ is Archie?!” “The penguin.”
(This made me really angry. I don’t know why though. In hindsight, Archie is a great name for a penguin. But it really bothered me in the moment that she named him. It bothered me that she’s crazy, wild, free, and beautiful all at the same time.) “AHHH! SO WHAT? You, YOU get to run around saving everyone from unhappiness? You’re the superhero that kidnaps people and forces them into the woods to be happy, to be whole? That sounds totally messed up Berlin, but I guess that’s normal for you, right? What makes you feel like you are so happy, so perfect, Berlin? ‘Cause ever since I got forced into your psychotic little car-ride
I’ve thought of a few things: one, you are crazy; two, you’re severely bi-polar; and three, you’re deeply disturbed – which, for the record, is similar but still different than being crazy, I do assure you!” (OK, I know, maybe a little over the top, a little hurtful, but I was holding a gun to her head, I was at my breaking point. So everything after these facts seemed like a walk in the park, so to say.) “I’m sorry Ben,” she said in a whisper, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Were you going to kill me? Were you going