(no subject)
"And could I look upon her without compassion, seeing her punishment in the ruin she was, in her profound unfitness for this earth on which she was placed, in the vanity of sorrow which had become a master mania, like the vanity of penitence, the vanity of remorse, the vanity of unworthiness, and other monstrous vanities that have been curses in this world?"
I feel I'm actually capable of playing the part of heartless prodigy for a while. I would apologize on behalf of the more impulsive Camille, "she doesn't know better" and so forth, but there aren't any pawn-people in my lively proximity. There is no upper-handed storyline, there are no fateful occurrences here. If there really happens to be a backbone to livin', then whoa, watch out, I'm a damned chiropractor.
I know exactly what I'm up to, and I'm not killing anyone's time but my own. Distance yourself if this feels like a misunderstanding. Then, once brushed-off, sobered-up and ready, be sure to yell the new plan from a good ways across the room.