Immersed in the deep sea of \u200b\u200bthoughts, in a sort of temporary tangible apocalypse, when the lights of the day engage in the usual way that distinguishes the crossroads of the day from the night, I reached a troubled awareness of my state of being. The clock ticked the seconds ticking with the usual pounding, that if we heard directed in trans with a violence that does not allow any defense. He was complicit silence that tedious, that the hours passed he became like a warm blanket that wraps up my feelings, my moods, protecting them from a life that no longer belongs to me, which is outside the dark room, I seem to have forgotten by now.
The sun is gone, the blue sky has given way to a dance of nostalgic colors like slaves are dragged behind the darkness that slowly envelop city. Un'ancestrale sadness pervades my unconscious, I feel a presence near, but are home alone. I close my eyes and relax for a moment, the deep feeling is accentuated without stopping, the rest dying in bed, gazing at the window. I feel, is here. It 's here with me. She stares at me constantly, with a warning glance ... M'incute fear, but the voids in the eye to understand: she is my life. She has knocked on doors of my mind for more than two hours. I rebel, I call in aid the ticking of the ancient tool that fearless, without doubt an instant, I still rails against a thousand and one thousand strokes, taking me in a state of sleep-wake cycle. I smile quietly without even knowing it. She wanted me with him but I lost ... For now ...
Darkness have welcomed me, I feel home. Walk out the door and find myself in a dark forest, I was not home, I was in a cabin on the lake. I do not know exactly where I am, but I will not go away. I see an indomitable moonbeam to break through the clouds and pierce the darkness.
Darkness have welcomed me, I feel home. Walk out the door and find myself in a dark forest, I was not home, I was in a cabin on the lake. I do not know exactly where I am, but I will not go away. I see an indomitable moonbeam to break through the clouds and pierce the darkness.
But what spells cruelty can be right now?
I feel at home but no one, I'm comfortable but I am alone.
I see a figure in the distance coming down a hill. E 'shadow family, almost formless at first, but as you look back on the distance, I can see my eyes. I'm frigid, but sad icy, almost violent, as you look at the absolute feeling of being a murderer. Not me, not so. "Go away!" the intimate, but does not seem to hear me, come, is getting bigger, and its steady pace resembles the striking of the latter. No sign of stopping, come before me with frost and stop staring into his eyes.
looked down the hill and I noticed a ghostly look, reminded me a lot myself and I decided to go down to meet him. I was almost pain, stared at him, I did not know who it could be. This was my world, my and mine alone. I had created for rifugiarmici when I needed it most, but almost ghostly presence that had dared to violate it. By what right then ... The my steady pace gives me security, I am sure I can do it in leave.
getting closer and closer I came to my hut, and there, motionless, staring at me with a look full of feeling. My moonbeam dazzles him, he raises his arm to try to shelter from excessive radiation, and the first intellectual figure assumes a shape and color. I look with horror, or rather, I saw in him.
"It can not be," I thought, bringing his hand between me and the moon ...
"It can not be" I thought, staring at my reflection in the ether ... scared
And instead so, I'm not myself, I'm only a part of me: first, a facade.
slowly begins to return consciousness, the lake disappears, the moon becomes dark, it all comes back black. The darkness is about to cancel quell'ascetico moment in favor of persecution that shadow that follows me from dusk.
Yes, I take note, I'm not myself. They are split in two by the loneliness, bitterness, from the violent struggle between love and hate that every day we fight in me, between peace and violence, between right and wrong.
That part of me, so soulful, charismatic leads me to love in the most ancient and savage.
That part of me, so rational, cold as ice but at the same time pure and clear as water from a mountain spring, that part makes me cunning and perseverance, and the part of me that is generated as a result of grief and pain, is the sad part of me that is required to shield me from the outside world, is that part of me pawing and fighting to the death if necessary.
a resurrection after death and the door to fight again.
I did this, they are like Janus, the two-faced God, I have two sides to look also at the back, two sides can only be distinguished by looking.
I feel at home but no one, I'm comfortable but I am alone.
I see a figure in the distance coming down a hill. E 'shadow family, almost formless at first, but as you look back on the distance, I can see my eyes. I'm frigid, but sad icy, almost violent, as you look at the absolute feeling of being a murderer. Not me, not so. "Go away!" the intimate, but does not seem to hear me, come, is getting bigger, and its steady pace resembles the striking of the latter. No sign of stopping, come before me with frost and stop staring into his eyes.
looked down the hill and I noticed a ghostly look, reminded me a lot myself and I decided to go down to meet him. I was almost pain, stared at him, I did not know who it could be. This was my world, my and mine alone. I had created for rifugiarmici when I needed it most, but almost ghostly presence that had dared to violate it. By what right then ... The my steady pace gives me security, I am sure I can do it in leave.
getting closer and closer I came to my hut, and there, motionless, staring at me with a look full of feeling. My moonbeam dazzles him, he raises his arm to try to shelter from excessive radiation, and the first intellectual figure assumes a shape and color. I look with horror, or rather, I saw in him.
"It can not be," I thought, bringing his hand between me and the moon ...
"It can not be" I thought, staring at my reflection in the ether ... scared
And instead so, I'm not myself, I'm only a part of me: first, a facade.
slowly begins to return consciousness, the lake disappears, the moon becomes dark, it all comes back black. The darkness is about to cancel quell'ascetico moment in favor of persecution that shadow that follows me from dusk.
Yes, I take note, I'm not myself. They are split in two by the loneliness, bitterness, from the violent struggle between love and hate that every day we fight in me, between peace and violence, between right and wrong.
That part of me, so soulful, charismatic leads me to love in the most ancient and savage.
That part of me, so rational, cold as ice but at the same time pure and clear as water from a mountain spring, that part makes me cunning and perseverance, and the part of me that is generated as a result of grief and pain, is the sad part of me that is required to shield me from the outside world, is that part of me pawing and fighting to the death if necessary.
a resurrection after death and the door to fight again.
I did this, they are like Janus, the two-faced God, I have two sides to look also at the back, two sides can only be distinguished by looking.
But who? Who is really watching you behind if not a friend? A real friend, a friend who unfortunately is missing me, a friend who might not I never had and never will be. And so, for a fatal coincidence, the duality that is present in my mind, makes me the only friend I can trust, the only friend that I look back.
Therefore, in tacit agreement between myself, I decided to be sadly, the only friend of myself.
Therefore, in tacit agreement between myself, I decided to be sadly, the only friend of myself.
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