"Emotions, in my experience, aren't covered by single words. I don't believe in "sadness," "joy," or "regret." Maybe the best proof that the language is patriarchal is that it oversimplifies feeling. I'd like to have at my disposal complicated hybrid emotions, Germanic train-car constructions like, say, "the happiness that attends disaster." Or: "the disappointment of sleeping with one's fantasy." I'd like to show how "intimations of mortality brought on by aging family members" connects with "the hatred of mirrors that begins in middle age." I'd like to have a word for "the sadness inspired by failing restaurants" as well as for "the excitement of getting a room with a minibar." I've never had the right words to describe my life, and now that I've entered my story, I need them more than ever. "
― Jeffrey Eugenides, Middlesex

I saw the video.

The video was bad news on many levels. Why? One-because it was my cameras I had loaned to Carl and Andre for their usual dumbshit. They wanted to prove Orbs. Didn't matter the explanation that I gave them about how light retracts or possible Water droplets or dust particles, they believed in the supernatural. Prove it.

I'm best friends with Andre and Good friends with Carl. There something that is just not right with Carl, and I don't mean the autism part. I'm autistic, but there is a difference between autistic and psychotic. Whenever he talks crazy, I usually peace out.

I play most string instruments very well. My preference is the Cello. I can play the piano, and I am just as good as Andre, but that night he proved me wrong when I no longer could keep up with him on Cello as he improvised. I waited until my mind could send signals to my fingers and hand that this is the moment to join in once I recognized Andre was going in and out of Liszt's Transcendental Etude. Like what the fuck, man?

Andre smiles and finally goes into Moonlight Sonata, which I can join in without fail. I mean this guy can play Chopin and Bach-like it is elementary, and Bach has to be done 100 percent error free with no foot pedal to hide any mistakes. Andre is amazing. Andre has a 1917 Steinway in his house which makes him total Boss.

When it comes to the piano, he makes Carl and Enid seem, just alright. Andre is the only one I know that is on a whole different plane of musical existence until he mentions kick drums that his Mom, Principal Benton makes him keep in the Garage.

What else am I good at? I'm good at hacking. Okay! I'm a professional hacker. I get paid, and my parents don't know.

I was there. I didn't know Mr. Benton, Andre's Dad had a gun until, Principal Benton, Andre's Mom, tried to stop him from going over to Carl's house to shoot Mr. Grimes. He didn't kill Mr. Grimes though. He shot his wife.