An unfinished scream and, suddenly, the pain turns into joy, disclosing all the wonderfull benefits of the self-torture. Most of you cannot understand this, but is the only certain way to make another pain ends - to fight fire with fire - and the nature of the pains ain't have to be the same, just their intensity.

The miserable, the rotten, the sad and the misadjusted, all of them, all of us, wait, patiently, for something that never happens. The wise men wont come, and makes no sense to wait for. That's because we are them. Or not.