Or not
As you might have guessed from the ostentatious verbosity, I originally wrote this monologue with the intention of delivering it myself in a comic that would have been charmingly titled "I Am My Limbic System's Bitch." In the end, while I was fine being shot in the face, crucified, impaled, tased, beaten and eaten alive by undead chickens, I just couldn't bear to appear cynical about love when the truth is I'm deeply entrenched in the "Doubt thou the stars are fire" camp.
Yeah, I know. I make Jamie sick, too.
-Graham
