You know that feeling you get sometimes when you're standing in a high place? Sudden urge to jump? I don't have it.
Nobody move! I dropped my brain.
— Especially when I'm in love with a psycho like you.
— I am not a psycho.
— I just told you that I loved you, and all you heard was "psycho."
Did everyone see that? Because I will not be doing it again.
— We can't get married at all.
— Why not?
— Well, in the first place, I'm not a natural blonde.
— Doesn't matter.
— I smoke. I smoke all the time.
— I don't care.
— Well, I have a terrible past. For three years now, I've been living with a saxophone player.
— I forgive you.
— I can never have children.
— We can adopt some.
— But you don't understand, Osgood. Uh, I'm a man.
— Well, nobody's perfect.
I feel like I'm standing in the middle of a crowded room, screaming at the top of my lungs, and no one even looks up.
An exit-door procedure at 30.000 feet. Mm-hmm. The illusion of safety.
— Tell me something true.
— Something true. I hate peas.
— This is impossible.
— Only if you believe it is.