These texts were meant to be written, they settle in my head like mosquitos do on Mister when he is sleeping. They just have to come out. I have to get rid of them: the ultimate attempt to keep my psychical health and try to fit in. Luckily most of the time I can bring myself to throwing away my texts, to burn them or to 'delete' them. But I can only do that with the texts that lack of a serious defect. The rest of them haunt my room.