[He never said it was bad. He just said it made him what he is today: wild, unruly, resistant to authority. He misses it sometimes, when he forgets about the oppressive hunger and cold and just thinks about the freedom.]

Because fuck him. We were doing fine on our own. Until I was dying, then I couldn't do much of anything.

[He pulls his lighter back out, playing with it in that agitated way he has.]

I needed to get better somehow. And once I remembered what food and a roof and a bed was like, I just decided to put up with the rest.