Okay, I’m short, I’m not too handsome. But for heaven's shake, I’m intelligent, funny and basically good. So why bitch, don’t you love me? Don’t you bloody understand that height, visible cheekbones and muscles don’t guarantee happiness? Neither does a large bank account, I’m not a bloody pauper anyway. Ah, fuck this shit, get involved with some son of a bitch who’ll betray you, beat you, won’t understand you, won’t buy you roses, won’t remember your birthday, will fuck and leave you. And your life is your problem, you’ve lost your best chance for happiness. And you won’t get a second chance, there aren’t enough of us to go around. Everybody hurts and I'm hurting but it will pass. Your pain will last. Who, me, bitter?