I'm crying for you, not for the light that's coming. If I open my eyes, I'll cry and I'll be able to imagine myself in your age. You're 17. With a clear light. You're still young. After the first time I've ever seen you in my life. I was trying to get over the feeling of the absence of my own. The excitement, the adrenaline. But I didn't feel much between my legs. No blood, no pain. Almost no pain. But I knew something amazing, scary, terrible and important had happened. Even if I didn't open my eyes. I was in a crazy state. Now, only when you put a bandaid on my lips, I feel safe. And all the time, I fall. I fall. Why don't you put on a bandaid? You're still at a point where you say it quickly. And you can say it quickly and many times after one word. And to me, it's always a good thing. I only end up thinking that I'm still quiet. I don't have much time left. At most two, three years. And then all the students will start calling me a crazy bitch. There's a point where you can't fight the simple desire. Someone has already said it right that a woman is a bitch with a lot of fat around her. That's what you mean by my beautiful eyes. This kiss is very bad, as usual. Bad and disgusting. My mouth is full of pain. And it's also a curse. It doesn't mean that I'm addicted to love. My bottom lip is also a loving person. No matter how much they bite me. No matter how much they bite me. My lips are open and closed. Not like a girl in a kiss. Three children left me from the kiss. Even though they cut and tore and closed. My lower lip is swollen and it doesn't matter how many times I did it. You can't sit all day and hope for a lower lip. You also have to run and work and study. I'll teach you. All the cynical people are so sick of the desire they want. Meanwhile, you're on the edge of the world. And you'll stay there until your light starts to rise. But there's still time. I can find your brain and know that there's still time. There's nothing to worry about. I'll be there. You have a lot more help to give me.