A personal letter.

Dear S.

You make me feel like crap, like I don’t really exist. I am broken and it’s permanent, it’s not nobody’s fault. But you can’t play with people like this. You make me feel unreal and it is kinda killing me. Am I ghost? Who I am? Did we really talked to eachother? Why everything is just like a fantasy? Do I really lived all this last 6 years in Rio? I don’t know nothing about myself. You just dissapeared, everytime when someone who I believe likes me does it everything in my life is affected. It’s not your fault. I am mind sick. What’s my name? I need someone to just punch me on my face. I need to feel it real. I really do. I am serious. Now is cold here and I am naked, I need feel my nipples exposed to the wind. I need feel the weather cause I don’t know who I am. Am I real? Am I the God’s favorite joke? Where’s everybody? Where’s my home? I am not my parent’s daughter. I am no one and it just hurts. I need some shit to feel good. I need some fantasy to feel I am real. I need to create a new world to feel I am really here. Who the fuck I am? What’s happening to anybody else? Why you are so far? I need feel I am real just one more time. I need touch the floor, I need to cut myself. I need to hold myself crying at night. Please, just say to me “Go away” before leaving. Cause I feel like nothing and it is weird. Wherever you are just say “Go fuck youserlf, you silly!” and I will be happier than I am now.

From the middle of nowhere,

Me. (whatever that means).

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