- Why did you bring up the Four Agreements?

- What do you mean?

- What is it?

- Some book, self-help or spiritual or something.  

- Oh, did you get that line from it?

- What line?

- Everything goes back to you.

- Eh, it's original, but that's the gist of it...from what I gather.

- It sounds helpful.

- It's supposed to be.  Oprah liked it.  It hasn't really helped me, but that's because my perception's tainted.

- Then maybe I'll read it if you like it.

- I didn't say I liked it.  

- But you're talking about it.

- Yea, I'm prejudiced towards it...and I haven't really read it.  One time a psychic said a woman had put a curse on me.  I was like, good guess.

- So I shouldn't read it?

- I don't give a shit if you read it.

- Okay.

- Not two fucks: fuck, fuck, goose!  Sure why not, read it.

- Okay—

- Read it read it read it—I don't give a shit, don't read it.

- I guess I'll leave you to your resentment list.  

- Why?  I sound ripe?

- Do you still want the smoothie to help you think?

- Eh, I rather sing with you.

- Don't make fun of me.

- I'll just take my apple in the morning then.

- One apple coming up.

- What are your plans after class?

- What's that?

- What are you gonna do—

- No coffee right?

- No, no more right now.  Too much caffeine with little sleep and I start looking for doomsday signs.

- That's a good idea.  Coffee would be a bad idea.  I shouldn't have asked because it makes you scared.

- It doesn't make me scared—I get anxious, like bad coke.

- Ew.

- Not good breakfast talk?

- Then what's the difference between anxiety and fear?

- Go to school, Today.  And where's my apple?  

- I'm cutting them up.

- You don't have to do that.

- Yes, I do.  I want some too.

- You know what I just remembered, Today?

- What?  Something for your list?

- Well, for my guilt list.  Reading my sister's diary.  

- Oh, recently?

- Yea, Today, yesterday.

- Yesterday?

- When we were young!

- Oh, okay.

- One page was about her weight—she was like a horse there for awhile—and one entry ended with "...and if I eat more than this today then I'm a fat pig who—"

- Oh, jeez.

- And I walked into her room saying, "...then I'm a fat pig who—"

- You read it out loud to her?

- Yea... It's like that poignant moment I relive thinking back.  She probably doesn't remember it, or think about it now, but only now I feel it.

- You feel for her.  Well, of course—it's guilt.

- No, I feel it as her.  I don't know if that makes sense.  

- I think so.

- Then I used to terrify my Chihuahua with the guitar, chase after him strumming, and he'd run and hide, and I'd stop and call him over to pet him, then start strumming and laugh as he'd scramble away.

- Little Oreo?

- My little Oreo.  The scars on my lips are from him.  Cute little mementos.  My sister picked up my lip from the rug.