Nós. 

Enlaçados, embaraçados.

Grita e não há som. Sufoca e não lhe falta ar. Toca o telefone, ela não levanta. Quando levanta, o telefone para de tocar. Cansa. É tendencioso. Só pode ser. 

- I wish I could understand you.

- Everyone wishes. No one really does.

- But I wish I could. I swear I try to, but I just can't. You mess me up.

- I didn't mean to.

- You definitely deserve something better than me. Look around. There's just plenty of them.

- I can't say I'm happy for not having your comprehension. But somehow I'm happy for having you. They might understand me best, they might know me best, they might do whatever in a better way. The thing is: I don't want them at all. I want you. Even though you don't understand me, even though I make you sad due to my issues, in spite of anything. I don't care, I want you instead of wanting them.

" I try to make things right.

I need you more than air when I'm not with you.

Please, don't ask me why. Just kiss me this time.

My only dream is about you and I."

- How does it feel, in the end?

- It feels so... scary. It is just like being thrown away. Well, after being thrown out of a window, if a box were a person, it'd might hurt. That's the same pain, the pain of being left to gravity's force, being pulled down having no other way to keep still due to the force's intensity and strenght. It's having the weight of all of your thoughts directly related to how fast they're going to be pulled down with you. And there's no time to think at all: when you realise, you're already on the floor.