Sometimes, just thinking that these lines come in front of thousands of curious eyes instigates me, stirring me up to tell stories as personal as possible, broken thoughts from present experiences.
Sometimes, or in fact, I often do not realize that I should probably rethink an idea three times before publishing it. Probably I should rephrase some phrases in order not to be misinterpreted and probably, many of those thoughts should be sorted in such a way that the information would reach you like any other banal announcement, like any other official publication Of general interest.
However, there are many times when I intend to write tabs in my official journal. Although I have a public life, although I accept and assume this lifestyle, the truth is that too much personal events will never be public, no matter how much the situation displayed in the online environment is told.
Many knowledge, too many friends
And I do not even cry, it's just a remark.
At times, I wonder how a person who has become popular and always looks happy, with so many frustrations and always confronted with indecision ... deeply immersed in an eternal insecurity.
Why do I always say I do not care what others say, while I involuntarily await a confirmation that what they do is beautiful, attractive. Why do I crave myself for appreciation, in any form, while I publicly express my disinterest to this kind of attention?
Why am I so superficial? But why do they feel, in fact, that they are not?
Why am lying to me?
Most of the time I'm lying alone. I'm afraid I like what I see, I'm lying to others for the sake of the situation. I think I'm fine, I'm lying that I have nothing. And I like to lie to her ... I do so often that these lies are a part of me.
Why is it that I am selfish and arrogant when I sink in an ocean of doubt?
I hesitate to answer, probably I would lie again.
Why am I smiling when I do not feel? And why do not I feel I have to smile more often?
I replaced the glass door that connects the living room with the bedroom, we had broken it a year and a half ago. It was new, but now I start to call her hinges and I forgot to fix it ...
There are too many shards of glass hidden under the closet, but they always make me forget about them. And the lemon has wiped off and the dust that has been poured over the cardboard boxes in the balcony has never been cleansed by anyone. Why delete it? Anyway, it will be deposited again soon. Better move the boxes, better change them ...
Smells routinely in the air. And it is that this routine keeps us on a floating line, without a solid direction, without a particular course, without a certain meaning. But still, it becomes too convenient to intervene.
It's fine, then it's bad. It's bad, then it's all right.
Everything seems perfectly balanced and yet it lacks harmony.
Who has seen balance without harmony?
And I'm still looking at the 4 decorative pillows on the black sofa next to me, 2 dressed in white blanita and the other 2 in a grayish gray with a little yellow / gold and baroque models - ladies, but they do not even match Nothing around. They lost lost even their initial meaning, what does they decorate now? They are old, just like the memories that hide them, memories under the nostalgia eternity. They have a specific smell that manages to combine dusty vanilla with a longing and smile in the corner of the mouth.
Not all the time, I will scratch my thoughts in an article to publish. And not all of my articles will have a final or a conclusion.
...
