we all build an idea about the others
it is impossible not to do it
so, it is very common to construct the other exactly as we want, specially when we are absolutely fascinated with that someone
the point is that one day, we wake up and we see the cruel reality (oh so tragic!, oh, why? why?) and we realise that we are in front of another mortal, a simple pile of flesh and bones with no charm at all
as i don't want you to waste your time building a wrong -but surely interesting- idea about me, just give me the chance to disappoint you by my own*
as Pessoa would say: "I exempt you of being present in my idea of you"
*i know how to do it, believe me... just trust in me (?)
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