Sarah.

To learn, above all, to distrust memory. What we believe we remember is completely alien to, completely different from what really happened. So many moments of irritating, wearisome disgust are returned to us years later by memory as splendidly happy episodes. Nostalgia is the lie that speeds our approach to death. To live without remembering may be the secret of the gods.
   - Álvaro Mutis

Dead men trapped beneath my skin protect me because I am incapable of protecting myself. I leave yellow flowers on my kitchen table as an offering to the corpses across the street.

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borborborborygmus

That's it. And you did, really, in the 1990s. You saw a lot of great minds just get ... fucked.