Interprete isto como quiser. Interprete como uma confissão, segredo, expiação, catarse — ou mesmo algo do gênero daquilo que você encontraria em sites como o PostSecret, One Sentence ou Group Hug — sob a minha assinatura.

The honest part is:

There's one reason, and one reason only, that this (whatever this may mean) will never exist again: shame.

Shame is the key.

Behind my pride, my stoicism, my blindness, my stubbornness lies a fear of a shame. Although you may say now that it was your choice and will to kill this (again whatever this may mean); if there's a chance of resurrection, it will be needed a reciprocitivity, that it will not be found on my behalf because of that reason. And that's my decision, my choice and my will. This is mine!

There's a premature killing of this allegedly future relationship. It will be stillborn, by my own mistake, I admit.

And when you ask then why this and I cannot be changed, please remember what you are reading now.

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I am not capable of bearing the shame that will rest on me.

It will be on the eyes of everyone.

It will be in the disappointment of everyone who knows me.

It will be on the betrayl of my own words.

I will not give my friends the pleasure of seeing me swallowing my own words and bitting my own tongue (for the sake of an artistic license and a literal translation).

Is because of the things I'm doing now. The diseases I'm spreading about you all over this town. And, forgive my stupidity and honesty, I will continue to do what I'm doing until I get avenged.

And oh, is because of the embarrassement I felt when I was reading your words.