I think I might hate this. She never wants to rehearse, and when we do rehearse she just makes dissatisfied faces and looks like she's repulsed by everything I'm doing. I'm not contributing anything here, she can do this on her own. She just needs someone to drive around and touch the money.

And for what reason does he think he can talk about my friends like that? "Everyone's entitled to their own opinion," my uncle says. "R thinks it too! So there's two." It's just that he is so wrong. He might not have ever been so wrong about anything.

There is no hidden truth in what he believes my feelings to be. I was never unhappy on tour, at least not the kind of unhappy that you know will evaporate by morning. My friends are the smartest fucking people I know. They have never been jerks anymore than friends ought to be. He stood in front of them for half an hour and said two sentences to B, and somehow derived that I was unhappy and that I deserved better.

Strumming a fucking guitar is not talent. Neither is going to college. Stop telling me I'm better than something, because until I do something that's worth anything, I'm not. I'm just the same, and I'm okay with that.

Disgust me.