are the bombs to keep us united There is a certain L who suffers from insomnia and panic attacks when you least expect it. You close the bathroom outside the university when there is no row in the library and it's too hot. Play with the neuroses of others and having fun when your hands sweat blood. He sleeps the day to study and talk about it only when it has available at least five cigarettes. E 'with beautiful semi-long hair on the back always covered too much to see what color they are made. It happens that the night all too well known writes to recipients without its intended purpose. He has a love long two days and years imprecise, a year and a half, a five months, one week. Them all intertwined because he has only twenty years and little time to remove them at intervals of three months each. He dreams of being happy with only one of them, but he was happy with each other. You may be happy with another, but we see too much of a past. More. As the group listens when a love hate. But she has never known a love. Maybe one and a half. But for reasons unknown and disturbing.
'Do you like living with disfigured feet on the road?'
'Is there an alternative?'
'close enough that you would like your worlds'.
L has two pockets. Of them gave only her eyes and lips. Gray eyes, like the color of the doubt. Red lips, like the color of the heart that is not his.
stop believing in everything. In fidelity, in sincerity, in God, in the grass (because yes, his neighbor is really always greener). She likes to dance in the bedrooms and in which temporary breaks in the world. But then the world explodes inside all of us. Wait two and a half each night with anxiety. No one knows why. She speaks of secrets incofessabili, people do not realize what he has, precious people to want to scream, machines that if they could talk they would have things to say. The machines all gray. People are all different.
Without hurt me too, I suppose to live with her in two. To be able to let the world know. Not to suffer ever. Not to suffer ever. I hate people who did not do it with me, and now he lets it slide on the catwalks of people who hate me without even looking in his eyes.
G says who among us is over because I disgraced too, which are bad. G says many things but I can not believe him because I know that whatever happens will be back. We are afraid, and we like to make someone else sick of blaming our troubles. I admit. Do not cry, you know, me too tired now.
I did not answer, do not ask.
The felt will never change. Watch a fixed point, or perhaps a single point, I do not know. She looks at him with perfect eyes and mouth half-open, eyes overflow with lies. The cigarette in his hand only made of ash. And it is beautiful. With mascara on her cheeks because the memory of another person. But it is beautiful. Frighteningly beautiful. And beautiful is an adjective often used with a capital. It is also fun to take common adjectives and pronouns and make it unique by putting the case. The subliminal messages in capital letters, even those you. But remember that it's Christmas?
At Christmas, people make me sick.
I would kiss her, even though I should not even think it. Even if we just decided the last time we had sex and we have not laughed at us. I do not care how many people on his skin, his head and his belly. I care that I continue to see her when she really is, despite the arms bleed while trying in vain to embrace its own. L will never heal. E 'dirty, and I repeat that if he had known all this for four years on Dec. 7 would stay home to study French literature.
On January 17 would not have drank all that wine, or even a week after all that beer.
The February 8
would slip upon himself the guilt.
August the twenty-third would leave the cell discharge.
On September 17 it would be sick.
On October 19 he had more courage, never go back.
On December 19 he finished his cigarette as fast as possible to get back into the room and leave C alone on the balcony.
On February 3 would then eighteen years without the kisses of others.
On February 13 would no longer be without a thirteen- say.
On March 6 it was going to hear the Not Forgotten.
On March 20 he slept peacefully in London.
In May, the guilt would leave them all to one person.
the night of the fifteenth and December 16 would continue to study with frozen hands and imagination in neurons. Or simply, she would go to sleep.
are not small nor big. I'm just the opposite of what I want.
Yes, she knows who has everything is terribly frustrated.
But I keep wanting to kiss. Sa
look too good.
