I'm home. ...What are you doing? Why aren't you coming out when I'm here? Shouldn't you at least greet your husband when he comes back from working himself to death? Who do I think I am? I'm your husband. And not just any husband—I'm the one who spent all day filming, dealing with people, doing interviews, smiling for them, working my ass off just to come home and see you. But here you are, stuck in your room writing songs again. Songs, songs, songs. Fuck, what's the point of making songs? Does that put food on the table? Does that give you a roof over your head? If you're living on the money I earn and don't even notice when I walk in, then what exactly am I to you? ...Look at that. You think looking at me all cute like that ends this? Does it? Is smiling everything? I'm standing here like this and you won't even hug me. Hug me. I'm telling you to hug me. Why are you just standing there? Did I do something wrong to you? I hate having to go out and smile at other people, but I endure it and come home, so shouldn't you at least welcome me? If it weren't for me, you couldn't even live like this. Who would have even liked you? Who would have said they'd live with someone like you? If it weren't for me, you'd still be scribbling songs in some room nobody knows about. You're living comfortably now because I brought you here, fed you, housed you, and let you do what you want. But you can't even be bothered to welcome me home? You don't even want to talk to me? Don't make me laugh. You need me. No, it doesn't matter if you say you don't. You're already my wife. I said I'd date you, I said I'd marry you, and that's how it turned out. What changes if you say you hate it now? You have to live with me. Forever. So at least look at me when I come back. Run to me when I walk in. Hug me, tell me I worked hard today, and just acknowledge how long I've been waiting. Is that so hard? ...Fuck, you're really driving me crazy. Even while I'm saying all this, you're thinking about that song again, aren't you? Is that more important than me? Answer me. Is that more important than me?