A marriage under the influence of Satan; or, how I learned to stop worrying and embrace my wife's demonic cohabitator. Getting to know someone intimately is terrifying, bringing with it the realization that this person you admired or loved from afar is really a pulsating mass of gooey flesh and blood, unpredictable in the extreme, and that they now see you the same way. Repulsed, we might run into the arms of another, chasing appearances we thought would persist, only to find them evaporate into vacant dysmorphic nightmares all over again. Some never learn the lesson, spending their lives chasing appearances indefinitely at the expense of genuine human connection. The couple in question, Mark and Anna, don't really sort any of this out, too busy as they are with killing and covering up the killings of the people sent to keep tabs on one another. What gets lost in the shuffle then is poor Bob, their son, which is where the real terror of Possession lies -- learning that your parents too are sacks of desirous bodily impulses who can't get their shit together, and understanding that this, too, will be your inevitable fate.
For me, god is a disease