A cold dismay creeps over me. Oh okay, maybe I did once kind of pretend I had a stalker. Which I shouldn't have done. But I mean, just because you invent one tiny stalker - that doesn't make you a complete nut case, does it?
The narrator experiences a wave of regret and anxiety as they recall a past incident where they pretended to have a stalker. They reflect on this choice with a sense of cold dismay, questioning whether a single act of deception can define one’s mental state. The admission underlines their inner turmoil and self-awareness.
This moment reveals the narrator's vulnerability and the complexity of their thoughts. While they grapple with the implications of their actions, they seek reassurance, contending that such a small fabrication doesn’t necessarily indicate deeper issues. This internal conflict highlights the theme of self-perception within the narrative.
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All the things you can talk about in anyone's work are the things that are least important.
Race of Cain, ascend to heaven, And cast God down upon the earth!
