23:52 pm. The moon shines in the sky, sleeps through the city!
But what do they know about the others?
The application runs faster on the thoughts of a night in the moonlight. Too
taken by ourselves (I make myself part of the circus) we are not aware of others.
Tonight I struggle to work. I have to, but I struggle.
Then tear a moment of life to work and I start writing a bit.
The silence is my friend this time. How much sadness when I think about that only remain gloomy bent on themselves, indifferent, that see only the tip of its nose.
Well! E 'then I wonder what it's all the wonder of the world, the greatness of life, the glow of the soul, the force of intelligence, the arrogance of feeling if mortify all tightening our horizons in the essential but narrow circles of our lives.
live a life "in between".
Yes, half.
You know that feeling of "not being" so disturbing that marries the "not yet"?
Well I'm there, like a flight in the air, where it is felt more who was caught walking on the ground but you can hardly share the emotions of those who fly high and free and happy in the deep blue sky. And this condition
imprisons me, prevents me from being really up in fund myself. I think this because when you are a prisoner was forced to stifle a lot of things that make us truly authentic, such as, for example, the full enthusiasm for things, without necessarily having to feel guilty because it feels to have someone removed, the chance to say "I'm not, I do not like this thing" without fear of being told "but you want it all!" the freedom "to expect" a certain kind of attention, without having to feel like those who do not really being able to give all of himself (with a good dose of guilt) are not entitled to ask.
And then: shut up and fly!
to live constantly under attack, still suspended in mid-flight, is a condition that degrades.
C'est la vie!
I always knew that my life at some point, it was changed forever. I always knew what I was going to encounter.
But I wanted to turn. I wanted to follow the love. And I still have done tremendously well.
But when I find myself still touch the raw nerve of my condition. And sometimes I get sad. Especially when this melancholy is visible and that others do not have the time to deepen, as they are taken from a sleepy existence only to spring up that stimulates the shoulders making sure to improvised and some shaky certainty.
But I still have the strength to be indignant. Why
lightweight when it comes to feelings, I am outraged.
It is for this reason, sometimes just for this, I find myself being alive.
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