quarta-feira, 9 de maio de 2012

The story

Yesterday I was talking to a friend of mine about how hard being soft can be. About how brave one should be in order to be afraid. That may be silly, of course. Or a way of self-defense. 
Truth be told, changing may be an option. For making the same mistake over and over again somehow builds the path of turning. Or does it stiffen one's own rules and loosens freedom?
I am not free, that's a given. Maybe I just fall into Freud's categories or is being locked something we opt? These are all excuses, I know. Always the same speech, always the same place. Always the same victim? And soul, so...

I remain in my hiding place. The words I choose to tell the story I might as well never live. I build characters and they destroy me. And their strength... oh, so powerful, they took it from me.


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