One day Lorelei came up to me with her hands pressed to her forehead. I thought maybe she had hurt herself, but as she stood there I started seeing pieces of hair falling out of her hands.
I don’t do things a little bit. I don’t eat “just this one little bite” of the cake, I eat the whole damn cake. I don’t draw tiny flowers on paper, I make them out of fan blades and bike tires. I go all in, or I don’t go at all.