“His voice was hesitant and colorless, as in those who hope for nothing because it is perfectly useless to hope.”

“I don’t know how to feel, I don’t know how to think, I don’t know how to desire. I’m a character in a novel that still needs to be written, vanishing into thin air and undone without ever having existed, among the dreams of someone who didn’t know how to complete me.”

“I don’t know what I feel or what I want to feel. I don’t know what to think or what I am.”

“Estou começando a me convencer que não existo. Eu sou o espaço entre o que eu gostaria de ser e o que os outros fizeram de mim.”

“I started to believe a little less everyday and it sucks.”

was i made from a broken mold?

“É o que eu faço. Eu afasto as pessoas de mim.”

“I know that the error is inside me. I don’t know what I feel anymore.”