When people tell me “Brooo stop you’re not dybala” or that “you’re not in a dybala edit” I feel extremely upset and misunderstood. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I know what I’m feeling, and I know what’s going on inside me. Everyone’s been telling me that I’m crazy, that I’m in a delusional state, that I need help. But they don’t understand. They don’t know what it’s like to be in a dybala edit. I see Dybala’s face everywhere, in my dreams, in the streets, in every TV commercial. It’s like he’s haunting me, teasing me, calling out to me. He’s trying to reach out to me, and tell me that we are an inseparable concept partitioned into two different human beings in physical form by the fabric of the universe. I am Dybala. I am in a Dybala edit. And I’m proud of it.