Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris. Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.
Lo so. Perdonatemi. Lo so che non sono una fan del latino ma, capitemi, per una cosa decente che hanno tirato fuori, fatemela mettere!
Ieri sera ero a letto e mi veniva un po' da piangere, perché in fondo erano solo le nove e mi sentivo terribilmente alone. I thought that I had to write that sentence on the chalkboard, and I also thought that I had to apologize.
If there's one thing these last five long years have taught me, it is that you have to admit their mistakes. All times, even when it seems that does not count. Even when you think, "But with that so I do not speak anymore, who am I doing this?".
Always.
So I powered on the phone and I sent a text message to a person who does not speak more than two years.
I know. I also know this. I'm just a bitch is not that sms is the best way to communicate. That, after all this time, what the hell, I might bother to speak in the face. But I
quickly. I had this big weight on my stomach, knowing that it was like having to do it before you lose the courage and energy, before he died that, gosh, I could not even see the sun. Let's face it. And so, with this urgency upon him, I apologized.
The person I asked did not have my number. But I know, I know with absolute certainty that he now wants to know what I want from her. And nothing. I could also talk to her, beyond the fact that they are slightly less than in pieces, that we do not speak for a long, more than that so I can not say that it's up to you.
But I did not. This morning I saw her, we laid down for a brief moment, and then our eyes are not crossed.
I was afraid. Are that type of person who, if it is in a very intense feeling, and it heightens things too much and is out of place.
said (over a long rant that is nothing but to nothing), move on.
Lately I feel out of place. Increasingly uncomfortable, as if I had to stay completely away. Not here, not now. Sometimes I miss your breath away. Knowing that there are all these silences are not all scream for silence within us, we scream and nobody hears. I almost wanted to tell someone. Say it all. Once and for all. But others do not understand. It is not their fault, and not miss that I want to be a martyr santarellina beyond human comprehension. It 's just so e basta, la mia vita e le loro sono su orbite diverse - e ringrazio che sia così. Ringrazio infinitamente che nessuno possa capirmi. Ovvio, forse qualcuno c'è. Ma a volte vorrei che non ci fosse. Nessuno si merita niente di tutto questo.
Voglio piangere di meno. Io sono quella profondamente animata da speranza e fede, sotto due strati di cinismo e razionalità. Magari non tutti lo vedono. Ma voglio essere quella che sposa le cose migliori della propria vita senza chiedere soluzioni a chi non puù darmene.
Detto questo (finito in una poetica atmosfera che non mi farò problemi a spezzare), passiamo ad altro.
Oggi l'ho visto. Un po', non troppo, non troppo poco. Normale. L'hanno chiuso nell'armadietto, me l'ha detto M. Ho smesso di masticare. Ridevo istericamente. Okay, non sarà amore e non sarò niente seria, ma bisogna ammettere che una gran bella scossa ai miei ormoni gliela dà.
Ho dato del "piscione" ad un piccione e della "caccola" ad una specie di pantegana mutante similcane comperta di muschio e muffa.
Ho gridato molto, sono caduta più volte.
Ho parlato, letto. Sono stata triste e sono stata serena, per manciate di attimi inesistenti. Mi piace quando gente triste sorride. Ho incontrato la ragazza della pozzanghera.
Non c'erano due professori. A teatro non abbiamo risolto niente.
Non ho studiato la terza declinazione di latino (ma eccheppalle!).
Mi sono strafogata di cibo. Non riuscirò mai a fare the diet as it should.
I thought I desperately needed to put the photos only when there is no internet. I hate. I have no idea about my respect. I feel stupid. I was asked a question on hatred.
I saw on the bus, the boy of my first kiss. Was seven, eight years ago and was perhaps the most traumatic experience of my childhood. I spent many nights awake, anxiously, looking back, to torment me, the thought of what was terribly wrong. It 'been for him I learned the meaning of the word "obsession". Like that time, playing, me and my cousin we kissed. But that's another story. I said, the boy's first kiss. I looked and there were just memories for him, no more feeling or thought. And I was pleased. Because it had sprung a very traumatic experience and if I got over it, when I was only passed a wren, then a few years, when all this horror and all this crap will be over, then I can overcome this. Not that I doubt. Except that I never focused on the real implications of it. And I thought it would last forever. But no. It will not last forever (and thank goodness, I would add, pig shit).
I'm too scared to think of a "love". Series, okay, and if he wants to have sex and I'm not ready but then I want it too and shit, I'm not sure I want to (Typical problem crap)? Or, do I want to tell my. And then she asks me out? And if you live far away? On paper (virtual paper, but still) seem much of a cock. I think I'll leave, but only for pure consumption and use me for my future.
Hello, me of my future (Odd, I think maybe now I'll never stop updating the blog, oddly enough because they are fairly constant, and will not keep these memories because they will come to me to reread the old posts. Odde! ).
F: "My mother gave me a banana, I eat it by force. But do you want half?"
P (as parbleu): "Yes"
F: "You, M?"
M: "No"
P: "Smart. How the fuck do you think there are half? He gave you one to me and to you we would fucking M, your banana!"
soon add the pearls of wisdom shoot it out today.
sure to read the types of poop Wiki.
Ecciao.
parbleu!
