Yeah, man, I think... fuck, I think it'd probably be best if I kept to myself. I don't even have any fucking idea what I'd say to anyone. I don't have any fucking idea what I'm supposed to say to you.

[Because the more time he spends around Willard, fuck, the more time he starts thinking about being back there, back on that fucking boat, and it's not as though that was the kind of thing he'd forget, because shit, you don't forget that kind of thing, not even once you're...

Well, fuck, say it like it is. Dead, dead and fucking gone, right?

But dwelling on it, that doesn't make it any fucking better. He isn't necessarily reassured by what Willard's saying. Maybe up until right now, Willard hasn't run into anyone who he knows from... before, from back fucking there, but that doesn't mean it'll hold true forever. And he's also got no idea what he'd think about meeting people he's never met before. They seem pretty fucking terrifying, too.]

I've gotta...

[Gotta what? Gotta do a whole fucking lot of things. Maybe some of them aren't even possible. Shit, maybe nothing's possible.]

I've gotta wrap my fucking head around this.