hojas_secas @ 2006-10-01T00: 10:00
involves the monotony, the same thing always happens to me, as if something is inevitable in my life ...
Now I just hope that this stage is over, I just have to wait a little longer to change the air, the faces, the stories. I'd rather forget
old solitudes, once out of this abyss and start from scratch to be a little more myself, to feel a little safer.
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Friday, September 8, 2006
Inside The Main Garrison
hojas_secas @ 2006-09-08T22: 27:00
I've always liked to write and receive letters. The first person with whom I exchanged letters was a friend of my childhood when I was about seven years. We lived in the same town to which by reason of work her father had to move to another city. From this it has been more than ten years. For various reasons she left overnight to write (I already had about eight years). But for me the letters have not lost that magic, that feeling of arriving home from school and see a letter on the table. So two years ago I started looking for new pals, so I began to write with different people, some of these friends came to fruition and others not, but this is natural.
Well, today I had the best day at school, my classmates have been more unbearable than usual, so when I came home rambling staring into nothingness or maybe that blue sky who-ya-no -be-seen-so-sulfur l, was a big surprise that my sister has told me: "I got a letter!". Immediately my eyes went back to shine.
Apart from the excitement that comes with receiving a letter today I have started to answer and I really relief. I let the words flow as long it did not. Is to write to someone who is thousands of miles from you and know only through the language of words is magical and wonderful, it's amazing to get to forge a friendly relationship full of trust and complicity that I have rarely come to have with someone. Also, the letter becomes a little therapy, is an opportunity to show me as I am with all my fears and insecurities, I can show this person that still finds herself often feels misunderstood .
I've always liked to write and receive letters. The first person with whom I exchanged letters was a friend of my childhood when I was about seven years. We lived in the same town to which by reason of work her father had to move to another city. From this it has been more than ten years. For various reasons she left overnight to write (I already had about eight years). But for me the letters have not lost that magic, that feeling of arriving home from school and see a letter on the table. So two years ago I started looking for new pals, so I began to write with different people, some of these friends came to fruition and others not, but this is natural.
Well, today I had the best day at school, my classmates have been more unbearable than usual, so when I came home rambling staring into nothingness or maybe that blue sky who-ya-no -be-seen-so-sulfur l, was a big surprise that my sister has told me: "I got a letter!". Immediately my eyes went back to shine.
Apart from the excitement that comes with receiving a letter today I have started to answer and I really relief. I let the words flow as long it did not. Is to write to someone who is thousands of miles from you and know only through the language of words is magical and wonderful, it's amazing to get to forge a friendly relationship full of trust and complicity that I have rarely come to have with someone. Also, the letter becomes a little therapy, is an opportunity to show me as I am with all my fears and insecurities, I can show this person that still finds herself often feels misunderstood .
Monday, September 4, 2006
Frustration Card Game Offical Rules
hojas_secas @ 2006-09-04T20: 30:00
I do not give more. No more than I have to stay forever with the words stuck in my throat on with them, because lately that the hardest step, whenever it becomes more difficult to express what I feel, it makes the secrecy becomes increasingly deeper .
I feel that everything is circular, my life is a cycle where events revolve, and then go back, hopefully it was like a spiral ...
I would laugh a lot. Lie on the grass watching the clouds move. Talking nonsense with them. Back to dream beautiful horizons. Enjoy the scent of flowers and see all rosy. Wake up one morning without having to think much.
But I have cold hands and a pile of notes stacked.
I do not give more. No more than I have to stay forever with the words stuck in my throat on with them, because lately that the hardest step, whenever it becomes more difficult to express what I feel, it makes the secrecy becomes increasingly deeper .
I feel that everything is circular, my life is a cycle where events revolve, and then go back, hopefully it was like a spiral ...
I would laugh a lot. Lie on the grass watching the clouds move. Talking nonsense with them. Back to dream beautiful horizons. Enjoy the scent of flowers and see all rosy. Wake up one morning without having to think much.
But I have cold hands and a pile of notes stacked.
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