difficult decisions that at times convinced me mean nothing and others with millions of voices bungle recriminatory push me back. And try again, to know that I went back to the place where, in an endless cycle.
There is no right time or the exact time to talk about the things we give a sad end. But there is an urgent need to cut the thread when the thread worn over us still hang, risking our lives.
My feelings are becoming more ephemeral, they fly with intermittent breathing of a dying, they are fragile as the petals of a jasmine thrown into space.
And believing that one day I will be sure to catch them is that I'm traveling this path with thorns, the only hope to unravel the mystery, to feel more human, and even if it means losing that force me to decide.
reunited with the loneliness inside me, to the dissatisfaction of a life inert. Convinced that there is no point being deceived by the company of others, despair lies dormant, under the guise of happiness.
A synthetic costume feelings, uncertain, play with my credulity, dañándome, and causing deception in others.
not want to be the victim, I beat looking for my freedom.
Find the end that determines the start.
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