The black chair

I don't lie, I don't deceive, I am who I am. It might sound arrogant, but it's true.

I'm Beatriz and I earn my living writing. I easily turn a decent bank account into alcohol and bad decisions. I'm depressive, analytical, stupidly intelligent, and I choke on commitment. I'm not a normal woman, nor do I intend to be.

My goal is much simpler: to be happy. In an attempt at self-discovery, with a slight dash of masochism, I started seeing a psychologist. Week after week, I was forced to talk about Marcelo (whom I'm in love with), Henrique (whom I sleep with), and Paulo (my emotional support and, sometimes, physical too).

These are the three men who ruined my life and to whom I am completely devoted.