I'm Dexter and I'm not sure what I am…I just know there's something dark in me, and I hide it. I certainly don't talk about it but its there. Always. This dark passenger. And when he's driving, I feel alive—half sick with the thrill…complete wrongness. I don't fight him. I don't want to. He's all I've got. Nothing else could love me. Not even, especially not me. Or is that just a lie the dark passenger tells me? Because lately, there are these moments where I feel connected to something else, someone. It's like the mask is slipping and things, people that never mattered before…are starting to matter. It scares the hell out of me.
Nuevos enfoques en Historia Social Argentina - Luis García Fanlo - *Nuevos enfoques en Historia Social Argentina - Luis García Fanlo*
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