on air: " Fast Car" Tracy Chapman
The world turns, time passes. I walk in the fog.
reckless actions are performed according to the present.
The mind is so confused by the many thoughts that oppress, that I realized that I lose everything.
I'm losing so much.
time, the possibilities, the smile, mine and those I had in front of my.
I hurt in the past. And I learned what was wrong.
Even today I hurt. I learned something else. I was wrong again. A new different error. Stumble, fall to the ground. I can not to rise, even if someone gives me a hand there. I can not. The wounds on my body are too many and I have to treat them one by one.
The pain is beyond me, I feel it shake my throat and penetrate into the stomach. And every step is difficult, every word he hides behind a hundred others. My every thought is developed in three dimensions in every direction, and the issues to be resolved are multiplying exponentially. I'm still
anyway. This is good. But the pace is too slow, the thought is hampered by millions of ropes that bind him and stumbles all the time, it rolls on itself, comes back, it explodes and he hides, falls down and vomiting.
And certainly not the world is still waiting for me. Even less people.
And I realize that he could not write, because everything I say is just too much and I still can not rearrange the ideas. I should first of all seek the end of the wire (a wire at least) and dissolve slowly, calmly. Maybe listening to Fiona Apple and Regina.
Maybe a cup of tea resting on the table and a drizzle that ticking on the window of the attic and my journal and colored pens under my eyes.
To begin to understand that I exist.
What can I live alone in the world, among others.
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