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giovedì 8 marzo 2012

I walk and observe, taking mental notes while exuding displeasure and regret. I often believe that I was not meant for this world. Or that I am part of something else, something that I could never accomplish here, on Earth. Embracing change can be exciting but I have always battled with it. It's like I never want to give up anything, however meaningless it may be. What is this innocence and melancholy I strive to hold on to? I know It's not for me, making sure I'm not in too deep. I think that I need to vent all this out, that It would do me good. Like a dance studio all to myself would work wonders. It's like I'm working against myself. My brain is split in to and the "bad" part is the strongest. No self pity here, mere factuations of my own reality. Fun, isn't it? And of course you can't become if you only say what you would have done.