I won't make fun of you: I'm a mess. In the morning I'm horrible, with the melted mascara the night before I forgot to take off and my hair tangled. I'm also more acid than an expired milk, sarcastic and also a bit misanthropic. I hate anyone standing next to me, yet I need to feel a constant presence that never makes me feel lonely, because, you know, I feel lonely on a bus at rush hour, and I don't even have so many friends. Then I don't like going out, but I love being outdoors, and I love the sea that I'd gladly look for the rest of my life. Maybe with you, maybe hugging you. Ah, and besides I'm a disaster in relationships that are friendship, interpersonal or love. I don't know how to relate to people, I'm too closed, too outgoing, too insecure, too exuberant, and who knows? The fact is that sometimes I'm better alone and other times I'm about to burst into tears every time I find myself on my own. Don't be fond of me, because after all, I don't even love myself, how could you do it?