“I idolized him and that's why he chose the time and the way he would find me, always hidden. For his closest friends, he left it implied at best. Knowing that he had me in his hands, he was with several women, in front of me and looking at me. He knew it would hurt me-we talked between staring eyes-that's why, the next day or even the same night, he'd make an appointment with me. And I was. I allowed this for 5 years! I heard that he started talking about me to his friends, I imagined it would be with affection, and he nicknamed me CAMÉLIA. I romanticized, from inside the well that I fell, pretending to myself that it was a compliment, an affection, an ode to the perfect flower! But instead of springs, the well had quicksand: Camellia was the name the soap opera gave to whores! I only realized what was happening when he started dating a girl I didn't know but I knew was very sweet and nice: before they were all enemies! Whores! Guilty! He called me and I didn't go anymore. "How absurd! What do you mean you won't come?". I did not go. I decided for a reason, even though he melted my heart and soul just by looking at him. He started doing things he had never done before: He struck up conversations about plans and about life. I said no. He talked about me to his friends and tried to convince me that he loved me. I said no. He talked to me on the street in front of other people and held my hand when asking to talk. I said no. He went to my house to plead, he called me by name, he was answered by my parents. I said no. He stopped me in front of his family and called me "My Love" because that was the crumb, I mean, final card. I said no and I went to meet his girlfriend, the nice girl. She broke up with him. We became very good friends, until today! Today, if he sees us, he shoots us with his eyes. I gave up the crumbs, which I collected with such care, too late! With that I lost myself and never wanted to love anyone, not even me! My self-esteem is still psychologically worked on so that, with effort, I can achieve it with a dropper! That's what crumbs do for Camellias.”
Painting accompanied by a report printed on sulfite paper folded on its back.