Colleen, we’re not here to sit in
Jesse looks up, eyes blazing. He fixes Jere with a challenging glare.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe I shoulda
put it in the paper. Maybe I shoulda done something different... The thing is... if you just do stuff and nothing happens -- what’s it all mean? What’s the point?
(a bitter realization) Oh, right, this whole thing is about “self-acceptance." JERE:
Kicking the hell out of yourself
isn’t going to give meaning to anything.
So I gotta stop “judging” and
That’s a start.
JESSE: (fury building)
No matter what I do, hooray for me, I’m a great guy! It’s alllll goooood. No matter how many dogs I kill, I “do an inventory” and “accept." You back your truck over your own kid and you, like, “accept”?! What a load of crap!
Jesse, I can see you’re in pain,
(The professional empathy gets under Jesse’s skin.) JESSE:
You know what? Why I’m here in the
first place? To sell you meth. All of you, you’re nothing to me but customers!
I made you my bitch. You okay with that? You “accept”? Jere is truly pissed now. Maybe that’s all Jesse wanted from him in the first place.
Jesse looks around the room, searching for someone to challenge him. But there’s nothing but hostile silence.