I think my friends might be bad people. 

No. I mean: in retrospect, I should have realized that they were bad people. 

Instead I trust them very quickly and very fiercely. It's not hard for them to get me to love them. I spent four years at a tiny women's college, and I am open and unafraid, like a tasty animal that doesn't know it should hide from the sailors who just landed on shore. 

Here is the playing field: the one you are closest with once told me that I made him feel like he was rotting inside, then showed up drunk at my door hours later. I let him in anyway. 

I should have known it was going to go wrong. I can't say that nobody told me. 

I thought I was the hero. I didn't realize it wasn't a hero story. I couldn't stop them. I couldn't save myself. 

Also, the [world][The World] is about to be very dark. 

Welcome to Madison, Wisconsin, summer of 2015.