It's what you create. And even though the world goes on for eons and eons, you are only...

Pastor: Everything is more complicated than you think. You only see a tenth of what is true. There are a million little strings attached to every choice you make; you can destroy your life every time you choose. But maybe you won't know for twenty years. And you may never ever trace it to its source. And you only get one chance to play it out. Just try and figure out your own divorce. And they say there is no fate, but there is: it's what you create. And even though the world goes on for eons and eons, you are only here for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Most of your time is spent being dead or not yet born. But while alive, you wait in vain, wasting years, for a phone call or a letter or a look from someone or something to make it all right. And it never comes or it seems to but it doesn't really. And so you spend your time in vague regret or vaguer hope that something good will come along. Something to make you feel connected, something to make you feel whole, something to make you feel loved. And the truth is I feel so angry, and the truth is I feel so fucking sad, and the truth is I've felt so fucking hurt for so fucking long and for just as long I've been pretending I'm OK, just to get along, just for, I don't know why, maybe because no one wants to hear about my misery, because they have their own. Well, fuck everybody. Amen.

Everything is more complicated than you think. You only see a tenth of what is true. There are a million little strings attached to every choice you make. You can destroy your life every time you choose. But maybe you won't know for 20 years... ...and you may never, ever trace it to its source. And you only get one chance to play it out. Just try and figure out your own divorce. And they say there is no fate, but there is, it's what you create. And even though the world goes on for eons and eons... ...you are only here for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Most of your time is spent being dead or not yet born. But while alive, you wait in vain... ...wasting years for a phone call or a letter or a look... ...from someone or something to make it all right. And it never comes, or it seems to, but it doesn't really. So you spend your time in vague regret... ...or vaguer hope that something good will come along. Something to make you feel connected. Something to make you feel whole. Something to make you feel loved. And the truth is... ...I feel so angry. And the truth is... ...I feel so fucking sad. And the truth is, I've felt so fucking hurt for so fucking long. And forjust as long, I've been pretending I'm okay... ...just to get along, just for... I don't know why. Maybe because no one wants to hear about my misery... ...because they have their own. Well, fuck everybody. - Amen. - Amen. - Delightful. - Thanks. I'm out of ideas. I'm dead. Well, I could take over as you for a bit until you feel refreshed. I think you're tired, Caden. All these years of creative work. I think you just need some time to regroup. - I need to keep my hand in. - Well, Ellen needs to be filled. - What do you mean? - Her role. Just for a bit. It's a choice role. I do like to clean. Ellen? - Yes? - Caden asked me to give you this. You're to keep it in all the time. So touched by the sadness of Adele's neighbor so close to death. Say, "Thank you," to Adele's neighbor. Thank you. You're very welcome, young lady. - Now say, "Have a very good day." - Have a very good day. I will indeed. Reach for the toilet paper. Wrap some around your hand. Wipe yourself. There was supposed to be something else. You were supposed to have something, a calm. Love. Children. A child, at least. Children.