Sleepiness is the perfect state. You're too focused on, or stay awake, or to find a place comfortable enough to sleep. I have sueñoy
When I think of things that normally cause for concern, I seem so insignificant that even I get upset with myself and I promise I never worry about things as superfluous. But I find it impossible not to. Spinning again and again to situations and events that already happened and I know I will never know the meaning is innate in me, that's why I admire people who have the ability to let things go that have no solution.Among
sueñoy moments have moments when I wish with all my might have it, I've come to find out why so hard to forget me / you. Somewhere in my brain, good memories cling in a way that almost touches the pain and trying to rid of them, I still want it raw. But I can not blame them, because I behave like them, I cling to the past, which is almost always better than the present. While I breathe, every breath takes stapled one of those moments when you're living, do not think that will have much significance. And even today, the thread that I closed the wounds, pull the fibers, despite having learned to vivgo with it long ago. Not heal.
I release that. Or at least I thought. It took high doses of disconnection, concentration on issues that plunged dangerously so banal that even I considered myself perdíaa me, but it did not matter because it made until the pain subsides.
returned. Apparently strong enough to not relapse. Again, my innocence was smiling at me mocking the other side of the road. I knew it was my mark of distinction. Do the games on the shore will not let me clear enough?
That distant land where I have planted many illusions is always ready to welcome me with a smile. But he did not. I fooled or better and to be exact, I ended up leaving me fooled. At all times I was conscious, I could almost feel the alcohol running through my soul. My neurons were swimming in pools of drunkenness. Red and black . Rosas
.
mixtures so perfect sleeping pill that they acted in the warm early morning where I bled the lips by the absence of their own. And the ears, by the constant presence of doubts Tues
