Him: I was helping them. This is not about us. It's about them.
Mother: No! It's not about them. It's about you. It's always about you and your work. You think that's gonna help you write? Nothing does! I rebuilt this entire house, wall to wall. You haven't written a word!
Him: I know! I know! I'm sorry! I can't... I can't write! I can't think! All I'm trying to do is bring life into this house! Mother: Open the door to new people, new ideas. You think you can't breathe? I'm the one who's suffocating here while you pretend that nothing is wrong! "Everything will be all right. Everything will be good. You'll be fine." You know what? Life doesn't always work out the way you want it to.
Him: It's coming to me. It's... I know what to say. I have to find the words. That's all.
Mother: Amazing. Well, I won't... I don't want to interrupt. I'll just get started on the apocalypse.
Him: It's a boy.
Him: He's beautiful. Let me hold him.
Mother: No.
Him: Okay, let me hold him. Let me hold my baby.
Mother: No.
Him: Let me hold him.
Mother: No.
Him: I'm his father!
Mother: I'm his mother!
Mother: You never loved me. You just loved how much I loved you.
Mother: What are you?
Him: Me? I am I. You? You were home.
Mother: Where are you taking me?
Him: The beginning.
Mother: What hurts me the most is that I wasn't enough.
Him: It's not your fault. Nothing is ever enough. I couldn't create if it was. And I have to. That's what I do. That's what I am. Now I must try it all again.
—
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