My only hope is made of doubt on how to become full of love by the simplest being I know of, me.
Everybody, blames my existence by telling me how important I am to them, but no one (until now) understands how exactly they feel besides that dependence on my coherence and self knowledge. They egotistically need my existence to become valid through me.
I work so hard to become so much to others that I foresee a very lonely demise.
the MONSTRUKTOR