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30 September, 2013

Pour me some heart

When I  was younger I used to write, so much so I filled notebooks full of crap. Pouring my heart, my soul, my dilemmas. Yet I wrote them in metaphors only I can understand and relate to, in case some unkind eyes read them :P. Many years laters, mother confessed to have read them. And admitted she did not understand anything :).

I see all these arts and nice houses and brilliant ideas realized and I desire to live many lives, so I can experience all of them, myself in person, not on the inter webs. Live in that house with a glass coffee table around a rock. Come up with that awesome idea and make it happen, all of them. I want to live all the lives, mine and others. Then I remember, I believe in reincarnation and all that crap. But what is it good for if you cannot remember the epilogue and the sequel?

I guess I am just frustrated nowadays. That good old 'not enough' sensation is running through my veins, burning my soul with desires I thought I had forgotten. 

I find it very unproductive to desire things you can only get from others. But hey, it is the name of the game...


I can feel everything is positioned under my fingers, to be played with, however i wanted. And i feel scared, afraid to fuck it all up. This what i have been running away from since i was young. Having this ultimate power to make things happen like magic but because of inner conflicts fucking it all up, all the time. Finally i am there, scared to move the pieces again, feeling like running away, again. I guess this will go on until I have no place to run away. But, hey, at least I accept myself.

ps: For all those grammar nazis out there, most of my grammatical mistakes are on purpose :) The others... well, mercy ;P

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