Is there right or wrong when the issue is love?

A short history to ponder.

Antonio Carlos don't tear up the letter or fail to read it to the end.

Today, after so many years running after you, I found out that I don't love you anymore. Really, I never loved you! You could ask me: “How could you not have loved me if you spent all these years holding on to the jeans of my pants, as if I were a beggar begging the king for food?” The answer is simple: I was hermetically locked inside my ghetto. From the ghetto that I was born, that I was raised, that I used all my life as a reference. However, today, minutes before opening the computer and writing this letter to you, I had an insight. Ant?nio Carlos, do you know what insights are for? Yes, you, despite being a scoundrel, is an intelligent man. That's right, to kick the ass of people like you. That's why the sudden, fleeting lucidity exists. One day, a former teacher told me: Selma, we live outside of reality all the time, as if we were borderline, however, luckily, an instant of lucidity appears out of nowhere. Just a moment, Selma, and look how few times it appears. Well... it appeared. I found out that my problem is not you, but this crappy ghetto I live in, a cage. The ghetto is something endless. I'm leaving my ghetto, Ant?nio Carlos. I still don't know to where, but without you, it's a certainty. You stay there, inside yours. Maybe you'll find another Selma, as muggle as I am. But be careful, she might have an insight and find the exit gates!

After climbing the endless mountains of ice, I will reach the top of the world. There are an ancient man, old and wise, he is the guardian of the “World Far from the Ghettos”. Not everyone is allowed to enter. Do you know why, Ant?nio Carlos? Because there are people who came out of the ghetto, but the ghetto didn't come out of them. That was cliché, never mind.

Then comes another question from you, just as silly as the first: “So, Selma, what are you going to do in your “World Far from the Ghettos?” No crap, Antonio Carlos! That's right, no crap, because there, unlike my ghetto, I'll be myself, I'll drink whatever drink I want, if I want a gin it'll be a gin, if I want a dry martini, I'll drink a dry martini. With or without olives? Screw olives, Ant?nio Carlos. Am I mad at you? How do I say it? What pretense, Antonio Carlos. Anger is only felt if we love. I don't love you anymore, swallow this one dry, because now I need to close my computer and drink a freezing beer, precisely the one you don't like.

Bye.