You can imagine my surprise, then, when Jin was not merely civil but actually quite friendly. Naturally, I was highly suspicious, but my distrust quickly dissolved into incredulity when Jin made her intentions clear. Rather than explain, however, I will let Jin speak for herself. The following is an excerpt of our conversation, completely unedited except for brevity and ease of reading.
[00:49] <Jin> But I was looking for qpt
[00:50] <Jin> qpt do you check your hotmail?
[00:50] <Jin> I wrote you.
[00:51] <Jin> msg me privately
[01:04] <Jin> You can send me a photo of you if you like.
[01:07] <Jin> Do you have a photo qp?
[01:10] * Jin wants to see qpt
[01:17] <Jin> I want to see qpt.
[01:21] <Jin> QPT
[01:21] <Jin> I want to see you.
[01:22] <Jin> Come on...I just want to know if you're a cutie or not.
[01:26] <Jin> I want to see qpt.
[01:28] * Jin still wants to see qpt
[01:29] <Jin> Qpt and I are fussing.
[01:29] <Jin> He won't send a picture.
[01:30] <Jin> Okay, qpt I want to see you now. It can't possibly be worse than this picture.
[01:32] * Jin sniffles
[01:32] * Jin sits in corner, sad
Far be it from me to cry "sexual obsession" when unwarranted, but I can frankly think of no other way to succinctly and accurately describe what is obviously Jin's present state. What could possibly drive Jin to so persistently ask - nay, beg - for a photograph except for that oldest of urges, raw, naked lust itself? What other craving could drive one to beg for hours, to suffer through repeated rejection, and finally to abjectly humiliate oneself for naught but an image?
While I admittedly have no training in the disciplines of psychology or psychiatry, I have watched enough television to know that battered women often develop an intense attraction to their abuser that defies all logic or explanation. Although it is regretfully true that I long heaped emotional and mental abuse upon Jin, I daresay that it hurt me more to wound her than she suffered in the wounding. Now I am pained even more to learn that poor Jin is grasping for what she can never have.
Her foolishness and desire prevent her from seeing me as I am - a cold and cruel blade, a terrible dagger driven by her own hand into her lovely breast.