You're atough kid. And I ask you about war, you'd probably, uh, throwShakespeare at me, right? "Once more onto the breach, dear friends…"
But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend'shead in your lap…and watched him gasp his last breath, lookin' to youfor help.
I ask you about love, you'll probably quote me a sonnet. Butyou've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable……
Knownsomeone that could level you with her eyes……feelin' like God put anangel on earth just for you……who could rescue you from the depths ofhell……
And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel……to havethat love for her, be there forever…through anything…through cancer.
And you wouldn't know about sleeping sittin' up in a hospital room fortwo months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in youreyes that the terms "visiting hours" don't apply to you.
You don't knowabout real loss……'cause that only occurs when you love something morethan you love yourself. I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody thatmuch.
I look at you.I don't see an intelligent, confident man. I see acocky, scared-shitless kid.
But you're a genius, Will. No one deniesthat. No one could possibly understand the depths of you.
But youpresume to know everything about me, because you saw a painting ofmine. You ripped my fuckin' life apart.
You're an orphan, right? Do youthink I know the first thing about how hard your life has been? How youfeel? Who you are? Because I read Oliver Twist? Does that encapsulateyou?
Personally, I don't give a shit about all that. Because you knowwhat? I can't learn anything from you I can't read in some fuckin'book.
Unless, you wanna talk about you…who you are. Then I 'm fasciated. I'm in. But you don't want to do that, do you? You'reterrified of what you might say.
People call these things "imperfections," but they're not.That's the good stuff. And then we get to choose who we let into our weird little worlds.
You're not perfect. And let me save you the suspense.This girl you met, she isn't perfect either.But the question is whether or not you're perfect for each other.That's the whole deal. That's what intimacy is all about.Now you can know everything in the world, but the only way you're findin' out that one is by givin' it a shot.
That's why I'm not talkin' right now about some girl I saw at a bar 20 years ago...and how I always regretted not goin' over and talkin' to her.
I don't regret the 18 years I was married to Nancy.I don't regret the six years I had to give up counseling when she got sick,and I don't regret the last years when she got really sick. And I sure as hell don't regret missin' a damn game.That's regret.
Every day I come by your house, and I pick you up.We go out and have a few drinks and few laughs, and it's great.You know what the best part of my day is?It's for about ten seconds: from when I pull up to the curb and when I get to your door.'Cause I think maybe I'll get up there and I'll knock on the door and you won't be there.No "good-bye," no "see ya later." No nothing. You just left.I don't know much, but I know that.