-You said, be real with you. I was and I told you I loved you. Now you are saying my love is suffocating you and you want to be left alone so you can breathe. I don't understand what's going on, Roberto.
-What's going on, Sylvia, is simply this: I am a fraud or at least I feel and think I am. I haven't been true to my words. I have talked a good game, but I have not delivered anything. On the contrary, I'm floundering in the sea of discontent and quiet self-disgust. It's time for me to roll up my sleeves, get off my butt, and start delivering. And I can't do that with you being by my side and hovering over me, telling me how great and gorgeous and beautiful you are. Beauty has its limitations. Beauty is barren without a heart to go with it.
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