Let me give away a little story I wrote in one of the most difficult moments of my life, in which all jumped on me: crisis of identity, sexuality, uncertainty of future ... In short, I was unhappy with my life, but more with myself for not having the courage to change. I think when I wrote it (not so long ago, about four years), I did the verge of tears, but today I read it and smile because I know we all have the reins of our lives, we just need a little push to shake. The next day I started writing the text to be the hero of my own life and started to make changes, some successful and others wrong, but it helped make my life more than mine. " Changes still keep doing ...
guess I get up from the chair to stop doing anything and, therefore, start doing something (something, anything, opposed but vague, ambiguous redundancy). I head toward my bedroom, room, studio or sanctuary, all the same, a room at the end of the day I smell permeated and greets me with it. It is possible, if you think that this is the warmest time I've had throughout the day, which saddens me not least because my senses have specialized in other less self-pitying feelings. Cojo
the keys to my apartment, which is not mine, as neither are the keys. I dislike your touch cold a moment, until the skin on my hands and manage to convey domestic heat, just before falling into the right pocket of my pants, which for them will be like a black abyss ... "But who cares what they may feel some keys? Do you feel anything? And if so, are not we already pretty focused on our own feelings and to look beyond our envelope of flesh? Who cares ... Salgo
brisk floor-to-no-is-my-story, perhaps too fast. Anyone who saw me would think that I run from something or someone. No if so, fortunately no one asks me if I've come across to someone, and if that someone not so indifferent as he turned to me. Again the absurd dichotomy someone / anyone, go boredom.
elevator greets me with a buzz. I should have used the stairs, I say, although inhabiting the dark to make them uninhabitable for people like me. That way I am, because if I could briefly define it may not be here typing ... The bright mobile niche spits me I think a more appropriate recipient described as "hall", as the building tries to look luxurious, but intends to recover something of an old and long lost decadent elegance. In the "hall", the goalkeeper, a figure that represents the perfect balance between the living and the dead, between the animate and immobility, between the plastic pots and the crane drawn, as it greets me, trying or maybe not in apparently apathetic. I recovered and outline a winning smile, and therefore false, those who taught me that should accompany the greeting that makes a person more than one. Being nice is easy, it seems more and simulate normalcy is another absurdity as before.
I go into the street. Rather, the street comes at me with its noises, smells, light and temperature (which is never adequate, I know, but neither the Street exist to make our lives more comfortable and happy.) I start to walk at a deliberate pace, I do not know where to go. What I do not ascribe to walk slowly, as life teaches us to speed up the time "wasted" on those tasks that are not tasks, like go to the place where you should do something.
try to know what time it may be looking at the sky. The sky that color is only in his name on a cloudy day like today. There should be a noun defining the location or the act of being gray ... if I do not know, just have to get on my floor, outside and read a little more. The "grisedad" (as I finally decide to call it) gives me back a diffuse light and dim light not only confirms the atmosphere of unreality that surrounds everything (be redundant, or that have atmospheres made vacuum selective literal to what not to your taste). Desisto to know what time of day I meet, even get angry with myself for such impertinence.
I stand on a pedestrian crossing to wait for the character locked in his cubicle green color shows its alleged freedom repetitive. I get scared at my own reflection in the side windows of a car passing at high speed to a meter short of me. For a moment I felt infinitely temporary, episodic, brief or may have received physical abroad As already suspected in me ... I shake with a sudden movement of the head of those ideas that keep me from sanity / normalcy, even I can see people coming toward me from across the street. A little more and I like the mask ... Why neglect (and what a relief would have been otherwise).
Wow, now I've started looking at people, I can not quit. Actually, I always enjoyed going down the street looking at other pedestrians to their anonymous faces and I'm not going to dispense with such a persistent habit (are there any customs that are not persistent? Another redundant set of words that leads nowhere.) I'd recommend to people I know who try to walk looking at unfamiliar faces. It's funny how absolutely nobody looks at you. It is an uneasiness that you feel, you start to think you are not there. In fact, people always tended not to dodge the street, it's always me who has to dodge. Imagine that there are different degrees of embodiment and still am in one of the most tenuous (beginner at all, go desperation).
But something happens, and suddenly noticed someone watching me. I have looked fleetingly as I did and undid those thoughts irrelevant and, why not say, egocentric as this whole story. If you know, that known or unknown, for that matter (although the Deep down I know that is not the same, but recognize that desire to end in "o" would be too much for me right now), I returned to reality, which I think I belong. Something must have changed on me, because after a while (seconds, minutes or perhaps eons) I have seen eyes staring at me from afar. I hold my gaze, to the point where I feel I'm doing is obscene. The other being reduced to just eyeball scrutiny has maintained its eye-to-eye just a moment longer than me. Alarmed, I turn when I exceeded, hoping to do the same, that there is something more than coincidence, that there are psychological or mystical connections ... and pedestrian not worthy to be rotated. I am relieved, not know what would have if it was the opposite. I'm not really prepared for so much right away, without anesthesia ... better to stop behaving in such an "inappropriate" and more if later proved to be a coward.
I realize I do not know where I am physically, what comes to mind coupled with the strangeness that is invading me and for longer than I care to admit. The strange thing is that I am filled with restlessness, as in so many times that I miss. Do I trust re-find me? Impossible, I've been showing me a lifetime I do not trust me, it would be something something as sudden and unreasonable without self-help books by ...
I'll be back. Perhaps you have been imagining this for a while. I see where I was, in my chair, dallying at the prospect of having to face duties and responsibilities that I have searched all by myself, but without which life would be meaningless or it would become so desperately obvious I could not stand it. Boredom makes you think, for good or evil, after all. I look out the dirty window of reality and imagine a bedroom refuge, a key-shield, a roommate of mine-no-partner is also non-trivial, a human elevator, stairs cozy, a Goalkeeper signs of humanity, green toys they run traffic lights, prison, people who look like someone who watches the air and people who searches with indifference ... and stupidly confident that the next time something makes sense.
guess I get up from the chair to stop doing anything and, therefore, start doing something (something, anything, opposed but vague, ambiguous redundancy). I head toward my bedroom, room, studio or sanctuary, all the same, a room at the end of the day I smell permeated and greets me with it. It is possible, if you think that this is the warmest time I've had throughout the day, which saddens me not least because my senses have specialized in other less self-pitying feelings. Cojo
the keys to my apartment, which is not mine, as neither are the keys. I dislike your touch cold a moment, until the skin on my hands and manage to convey domestic heat, just before falling into the right pocket of my pants, which for them will be like a black abyss ... "But who cares what they may feel some keys? Do you feel anything? And if so, are not we already pretty focused on our own feelings and to look beyond our envelope of flesh? Who cares ... Salgo
brisk floor-to-no-is-my-story, perhaps too fast. Anyone who saw me would think that I run from something or someone. No if so, fortunately no one asks me if I've come across to someone, and if that someone not so indifferent as he turned to me. Again the absurd dichotomy someone / anyone, go boredom.
elevator greets me with a buzz. I should have used the stairs, I say, although inhabiting the dark to make them uninhabitable for people like me. That way I am, because if I could briefly define it may not be here typing ... The bright mobile niche spits me I think a more appropriate recipient described as "hall", as the building tries to look luxurious, but intends to recover something of an old and long lost decadent elegance. In the "hall", the goalkeeper, a figure that represents the perfect balance between the living and the dead, between the animate and immobility, between the plastic pots and the crane drawn, as it greets me, trying or maybe not in apparently apathetic. I recovered and outline a winning smile, and therefore false, those who taught me that should accompany the greeting that makes a person more than one. Being nice is easy, it seems more and simulate normalcy is another absurdity as before.
I go into the street. Rather, the street comes at me with its noises, smells, light and temperature (which is never adequate, I know, but neither the Street exist to make our lives more comfortable and happy.) I start to walk at a deliberate pace, I do not know where to go. What I do not ascribe to walk slowly, as life teaches us to speed up the time "wasted" on those tasks that are not tasks, like go to the place where you should do something.
try to know what time it may be looking at the sky. The sky that color is only in his name on a cloudy day like today. There should be a noun defining the location or the act of being gray ... if I do not know, just have to get on my floor, outside and read a little more. The "grisedad" (as I finally decide to call it) gives me back a diffuse light and dim light not only confirms the atmosphere of unreality that surrounds everything (be redundant, or that have atmospheres made vacuum selective literal to what not to your taste). Desisto to know what time of day I meet, even get angry with myself for such impertinence.
I stand on a pedestrian crossing to wait for the character locked in his cubicle green color shows its alleged freedom repetitive. I get scared at my own reflection in the side windows of a car passing at high speed to a meter short of me. For a moment I felt infinitely temporary, episodic, brief or may have received physical abroad As already suspected in me ... I shake with a sudden movement of the head of those ideas that keep me from sanity / normalcy, even I can see people coming toward me from across the street. A little more and I like the mask ... Why neglect (and what a relief would have been otherwise).
Wow, now I've started looking at people, I can not quit. Actually, I always enjoyed going down the street looking at other pedestrians to their anonymous faces and I'm not going to dispense with such a persistent habit (are there any customs that are not persistent? Another redundant set of words that leads nowhere.) I'd recommend to people I know who try to walk looking at unfamiliar faces. It's funny how absolutely nobody looks at you. It is an uneasiness that you feel, you start to think you are not there. In fact, people always tended not to dodge the street, it's always me who has to dodge. Imagine that there are different degrees of embodiment and still am in one of the most tenuous (beginner at all, go desperation).
But something happens, and suddenly noticed someone watching me. I have looked fleetingly as I did and undid those thoughts irrelevant and, why not say, egocentric as this whole story. If you know, that known or unknown, for that matter (although the Deep down I know that is not the same, but recognize that desire to end in "o" would be too much for me right now), I returned to reality, which I think I belong. Something must have changed on me, because after a while (seconds, minutes or perhaps eons) I have seen eyes staring at me from afar. I hold my gaze, to the point where I feel I'm doing is obscene. The other being reduced to just eyeball scrutiny has maintained its eye-to-eye just a moment longer than me. Alarmed, I turn when I exceeded, hoping to do the same, that there is something more than coincidence, that there are psychological or mystical connections ... and pedestrian not worthy to be rotated. I am relieved, not know what would have if it was the opposite. I'm not really prepared for so much right away, without anesthesia ... better to stop behaving in such an "inappropriate" and more if later proved to be a coward.
I realize I do not know where I am physically, what comes to mind coupled with the strangeness that is invading me and for longer than I care to admit. The strange thing is that I am filled with restlessness, as in so many times that I miss. Do I trust re-find me? Impossible, I've been showing me a lifetime I do not trust me, it would be something something as sudden and unreasonable without self-help books by ...
I'll be back. Perhaps you have been imagining this for a while. I see where I was, in my chair, dallying at the prospect of having to face duties and responsibilities that I have searched all by myself, but without which life would be meaningless or it would become so desperately obvious I could not stand it. Boredom makes you think, for good or evil, after all. I look out the dirty window of reality and imagine a bedroom refuge, a key-shield, a roommate of mine-no-partner is also non-trivial, a human elevator, stairs cozy, a Goalkeeper signs of humanity, green toys they run traffic lights, prison, people who look like someone who watches the air and people who searches with indifference ... and stupidly confident that the next time something makes sense.
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