So that switch in my brain has been flipped again, that horrible device. It’s a girl thing, without a doubt. It’s a terrible terrible thing to turn into a completely different person over the littlest encounters. Honestly, I’m still not over the last time my switch got flipped. Broken heart? Not exactly. But I don’t like seeing myself as a lunatic. Regardless of whether my target senses my derangement, I can feel it in myself. It’s sick. It’s a very wrong sort of obsession, and I don’t know where this comes from. You’ll hear about me on the news one day, I’ve no doubt.