And here I am again, wanting and trying to find words, phrases, paragraphs to express what I felt and what I feel, but they do not appear. That I had to be like Millôr Fernandes and have humor, sarcasm and lyricism in my text. I wish I was a Drummond and in a poetic way scribble a text with poetry and prose. Suddenly a musicalized text, Chico Buarque style, where the lyrics value you as you really are. Perhaps an Machado de Assis, with its density, richness with words and elaborate text. But not at all. I'm a freak, I'm a freak, what the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here, whatever makes you happy, whatever you want, VC is special as hell. I wanted to be special. I will stay among the shadows, perhaps wearing my own, so I will be hidden and no one will notice, I have always tried to master words and now I don't know what to say. oje, I don't want to see the sun I'm going to night, everything will roll, my heart is just a desire for pleasure Don't want a flower ...