Hello. My name is Fatima and I am a moth. For some time I have wanted to kill myself. Indeed not so long as we live between one and two weeks, well ... or why not clarify this ... ta ... continued ...
Mother nature was unfair to us moths. I is ... we are a bug to fart. We are not as pretty as the butterflies, no bees make honey and do not sing like crickets, or even chop ... a fuck. If you ask me what moths serve, not to answer ... to hover to the people and we want to take tent? To eat their clothes? To fly like a dumb towards the lights? Someone please explain! And I do not come with that silly thing that all living beings are ... look for something flies or not. Those it does not work for nothing! Fucking bug!
From all this, I picked up the bassoon and painted me kill myself. The big problem I raised is how? It is not easy to decide that ...
I tried mothballs, I lace fourth ball, but neither touched me ... in fact, the hit was good, we hang with a cricket and we were delirious until all hours. We saw people of color, the wings we slept, I imitated the singing of the cricket. Cagamos us laugh, but go and talk.
Another thing I tried was to stay trapped in a spider web and the owner come and dine me. Nor was lucky. It was not to his liking. Tremendous Concheta that spider. Yes, I stuck a band until I leave.
Then I pulled his head inside a glass of milk to see if it went unnoticed and I was dying in the digestive tract of a Christian, but you believe that just the calalvera half I saw was green or some such silly thing, not just me out unscathed, if not also for my good and speedy recovery, let me locked in her closet. An idiot of those.
no longer do. I really should be a couple of hours old ... I'll wait tranqui around here ...
OPA! See that light as estáaaa!
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