This one feels important. If I’m supposed to clue the supernatural world into who I am, make my signature as I step through the door, then… this is pretty fitting. We’re flawed, people are. We’re damaged. We come into the world nearly perfect, naked, and happy and then life delivers the beatdown. It kicks our asses and makes us feel like shit. It does permanent damage. Bad luck, people, our own mistakes. I want to work hard at things I love, find the good, be one of the people who fix instead of break. Who loves instead of hates, in my twisted manner of loving, I guess. I want to make as few mistakes as possible… and I say that as a smoker. So maybe stick a small ‘hypocrite’ label on me too, while you’re at it.”