Y no me importa nada

My relationship with Ezra was like a mixed bag of nuts: when you open the bag, you promise yourself that you will eat only what you like and throw away those hard chickpeas that are only put in for stuffing. Although in the end you are surprised, because you end everything, with the good and the bad. In the same way I accepted Ezra, a man who represented what I abhorred and who, moreover, boasted about it. I ignored the signs and turned a deaf ear to his warnings that he wasn't just your typical badass who sneaked cigarettes in high school, shoplifted at supermarkets, or forged grades. Ezra did a lot of damage to those he chose, especially women. He did not shake his pulse to maintain his position within that sordid world in which he was installed. I witnessed it.