A Merry Christmas to the sad, the confused, the lonely, the destitute, the hungry, the lost. To the ones who can’t take the pain anymore and the ones who gave up. To you, who feels wronged and misunderstood, and you, whose heart is about to explode.

It’s not today, see? It might never be.

I could just let it all out. It’d just be mean if  I was trying to hurt you. The trouble is that letting it all out without being mean feels pointless.

Não insultes a minha inteligência, a minha perspicácia ou sequer o meu português. Não me confundas com a corte de saloios que te rodeia e quem te apraz impressionar.

I am not your kind.

Look, I know you’re lying. You also know that I know. Could we move on, please?