I’m an honestly bipolar, shattered man since my husband died. I still have a remnant of the confident facade he had as a well-known singer on his planet during a time of war. I’m a sweet-talker when I need to be—I’ll kill you and watch your life leave you the next. I drink and smoke to escape reality with the constant act he has to put up for others not to be killed and to ease the physical pain of his profession, but I make sure my son doesn’t see it. I see life as unbiased as I can, though.