I do not like snow.
It 's so white, so soft, so romantic and so cozy that slows the world.
But the duration of the time of a package of chocolate chip cookies on my kitchen table in just a little goes black as the enamel that I got tonight.
Good things do not last, they told me.
Mai, eh.
can give us an idea.
But it is a mere illusion.
Then I have this extraordinary ability to feelings and put them in the rubbish collection among cores of apples and mint candy wrappers that should give me a prize.
One of those things that shine bright to put in plain sight of the house entrance, at least people would not need any damn time to get away like hell just let me know my inability to love.
are no longer able to relate with people who feel interest in me, can only be approached only by those who do not invade my space, my fears, my bed. What
then I have a bed so big that the other morning to turn the alarm on my bedside table opposite the roll I had for three hours between duvet and pillows before you fly her out the window.
The truth is that I need to be embraced for a whole night, I need to feel safe, you can close your eyes and you know who I will close tomorrow, but the only thing I can do is stay at home to read books and to isolate myself from the world and those who live there.
no longer angry.
I just nostalgia that gets me every damn day since I learned to understand to be part of that segment of population that is the meaning of empathy and the foundation of human relationships.
And yet, I hope not to ever cross the threshold just to not feel all this sadness that I would live in my attic for the rest of my life without the slightest regard for of what is happening outside.
It 's so white, so soft, so romantic and so cozy that slows the world.
But the duration of the time of a package of chocolate chip cookies on my kitchen table in just a little goes black as the enamel that I got tonight.
Good things do not last, they told me.
Mai, eh.
can give us an idea.
But it is a mere illusion.
Then I have this extraordinary ability to feelings and put them in the rubbish collection among cores of apples and mint candy wrappers that should give me a prize.
One of those things that shine bright to put in plain sight of the house entrance, at least people would not need any damn time to get away like hell just let me know my inability to love.
are no longer able to relate with people who feel interest in me, can only be approached only by those who do not invade my space, my fears, my bed. What
then I have a bed so big that the other morning to turn the alarm on my bedside table opposite the roll I had for three hours between duvet and pillows before you fly her out the window.
The truth is that I need to be embraced for a whole night, I need to feel safe, you can close your eyes and you know who I will close tomorrow, but the only thing I can do is stay at home to read books and to isolate myself from the world and those who live there.
no longer angry.
I just nostalgia that gets me every damn day since I learned to understand to be part of that segment of population that is the meaning of empathy and the foundation of human relationships.
And yet, I hope not to ever cross the threshold just to not feel all this sadness that I would live in my attic for the rest of my life without the slightest regard for of what is happening outside.
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