Ideas, words, vague concepts of wandering through infinite space. Simple details, details that are no longer simple. What are the words? Why are they important? I do not understand how a conglomeration of short-range abstractions without much subtlety can be as powerful, as well as to forge a nation, to build a society, to raise or break, or just break a heart. I'm young, unwise mind even with a small handful of memories to tell and another adventure to boast.
This is a little giddy, for a moment to practice some distraction and plunged down into a void of thoughts and ideas, some other interesting, good ... and some not so, and occasionally make me laugh, and sometimes when I do mourn. And lately all I've done is to live within my four walls to finally take the shape of my bedroom, a space that I have gradually forged according to myself, why I need to rest of the world ... and me. And in this place, where I can leave my body from side in peace and without worries is that I could mourn over and over again.
occasionally is not bad to empty our souls of so much pain and suffering, of those things are not easy to testify against someone, everything that bothers us but we do not want to lose, and everything we live and put up daily by a feeling so simple yet so complex at a time ... I've noticed that sometimes in order to be happy is necessary to suffer. "And do not be too much? Will this feeling, this feeling has locked me in his bed to protect me from some one that should be well?
few days ago I made the conscious failure to write "I want happiness," and after reading the responses and dialogue bearings I noticed something rather interesting: I'm not happy, but that's because I have not liked. It's something unconscious that I hardly realized until already passed the opportunity. Want happiness, want something simple that you can not have desire, it sounds selfish and sad at the same time, because I really wish I could be happy once and for all, but ask that way is wrong. It would be easier if someone guide me, help me to tidy up mess size every day I remove in order to find a shred of vitality, something to keep me alive. "I write to keep her sanity," "writing, to keep away the sanity", use that stupid giant of letters arranged in a customized way to articulate something, to make a vain effort to convey something, perhaps a cry, a victory, or a simple defeat. Sometimes I write, in fact always write, but if I do it because I know that someone else will read it, still alive or not, but when someone reads and understands me, and some of those rough attempt to assemble sentences that were to take their heart, then within that person get on with life, latent and dormant.
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