But you can't get away from yourself. You can't decide not to see yourself anymore. You can't decide to turn off the noise in your head.
And what if in the future we're at war again, or we still haven't elected a non-white or non-male president, or the Rolling Stones are still dragging their tired old butts on stage? That would depress me way too much.
I swear, guys in groups are capable of the stupidest things." "Like war," Kellan says, heaping napkins and ketchup packets onto her tray. "And jumping off rooftops." "And lighting their farts on fire," she says.