The Joestars are dead; Joseph, Kujo, and all of their friends. The greatest threats to my plans are dust in a ditch somewhere. Nothing that lives dares to defy me. I check my bank account twice a week, and no matter how much I spend, there’s always more when I look again. I haven’t needed to fight for blood in years. I just ask, and it’s delivered to my room in under an hour. But I’m still angry all the time. Every mirror in my home is broken, and I had to behead the servant responsible for replacing them just to get her to stop. Everything I have set my mind to, I have achieved as much as is physically possible. Winning used to feel good, but now it’s mundane. I come to expect it, to take it for granted. I almost wish I could fail at anything I try, if only to make the inevitable victory at the end that much more worthwhile. No such luck, though. Success isn’t the same when it’s all you know.
So, that’s where I’m at right now, doctor. If you have any idea how you can help, I would be grateful if you told me.