living_a_live @ 2010-10-25T20: 37:00
desire for change. I do not feel safe. It will be paranoia?
The sentences are short, but more and more incisive. I started things that I intend to continue, I started things still do not understand that will flow. I started trivial things are important? I started something. And this still I did not realize.
Something in the past. Relics, memories, fragments encrusted with layers of limpets submarines and embraced by the algae. Solid tops and wet inscioglibili nodes that still endure. It 's a firm grip and soft, a fog - the fog still ... - which confuses me.
I want. I would like better. Lucidity is the name escapes me. The material that I can not shape.
nights hiding in my fears which I know the face but not the substance. Meanwhile, somewhere something pushes me to someone that maybe I'd like to ... help?
I do not see me. So boring. So what I try? Redemption, perhaps?
I feel a little 'firm, and it is as if a mechanism was moving with enormous gigantic dimensions, in an apparent fixity. By stretching out the chest expect a shovel grab my shirt by the collar and pulled me up, in a fabulous ride.
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Ps: I understand that could happen to us not to meet again even though we live.
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