I've always found that one of my flaws were bulky insecurity, high levels in almost pathetic. I'm not tall, not thin enough, I'm not original and not too smart. I live the relationship with my body with resignation, since they are not yet able to change those things about myself that I do not like. I do not have enough willpower. Today I hit rock bottom. The onset of my mother looking through the reflection in the mirror: "You ingrassatina eh? And maybe you should keep long hair, so you can see them even more for you and not too many."
Surprise.
Awareness.
Fuga.
crying hysterically.
Depression.
Here we present the representation of modern women, or at least this one, who spends his life in self-pity to be imperfect, and a mother who has the delicacy of a drunk walrus to point out everything that desperately tries to ignore .
Tomorrow I will kill myself in the pool of labor.
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