"Keep in mind, we're Under The Same Sky, and the night's as empty for me as for you. "
still hungry, still crazy, still love.
Passion, the idea of dragging all my life, not as an engine as quiet but explosive energy, inconvenient, uncomfortable. To be hidden away, almost as if you were ashamed.
As if I had to bend the head and admit that yes, I talked , I heard ; but not only, because I really statement, I heard . I believe .
estimate, compared , trust, love are not objects that surround, place on top shelf, pull out on special occasions. Are not words, not concepts. I can feel the
their presence, at any time. They are the real thing that I have.
And maybe I should really be ashamed if I let live with me, I follow in the bathroom in the morning, a meal at a guitar lesson on Saturday evening for the center, the university, if he allows me bend, they have the better of common sense. Or the common sense of what should be considered as such.
I should convince my naivety is a terrible flaw, I would bathe in cynicism and enjoy it. It would certainly be easier lie, the easier for me and for others. Giving
.
Raise your arms in the air and surrender, wave the white flag, tell me you are not to blame if I stop trying, I did everything I could, which was simply not possible .
But I will not.
accept a real pain, that does not make you sleep, you torture and slowly eats you inside, and there will be one day, the purest joy. The joy . And I'll be happy, not satisfied, reasonably serenza not pleased.
not absence of pain, the presence of joy.
They do not allow me to rest, to have peace and be content. And the heart is running out, but that's okay.
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