IN PROGRESS...
... because the jodido love does not believe in me.
This late I have written this phrase in an email in which it tried to relieve to me and to explain why no longer I believe in the most romantic concept of the Love. It I have releido a pair of times and I have realized much that I say in her. Also I have reached the conclusion that "my history with the love, that began my 8 añitos, is a song of the Counting Crows". And with that phrase also I say much more of which it seems. There was somebody once it would have understood it perfectly. Peculiar memories assault to me lately. I yesterday realized of which a good part of everything what it has happened to me in the life has strange connections with many of the things that come to me at the top in the situation in which I am. It is not easy to explain. It either does not desire to me to do it... I do not know, is as if my life was an article of the Wikipedia, in which of each ten words linkada "to another article has", that as well "linka" with first or a third different one which it will take to first in a perfect vicious circle... I feel so tired... I am having some problems with the anxiety. It has taken at least enough in reappearing. I cannot be complained the vacations that I have had while, I suppose. Not yet I have been going to punturar to me nor I have resumed the appointments with the psychologist of the dream. ... I feel totally lost in the circumstances of my life. And I do not know if that is good or bad. So far the only thing that I feel is sadness and certain rage. Although, trying to be something more optimist, also I lodge a very small hope of which at the moment in which it sees the clearest things I will watch inside and outside me and I will be able to affirm that I am much more great, who I have let grow a little plus my soul.
... because the jodido love does not believe in me.
This late I have written this phrase in an email in which it tried to relieve to me and to explain why no longer I believe in the most romantic concept of the Love. It I have releido a pair of times and I have realized much that I say in her. Also I have reached the conclusion that "my history with the love, that began my 8 añitos, is a song of the Counting Crows". And with that phrase also I say much more of which it seems. There was somebody once it would have understood it perfectly. Peculiar memories assault to me lately. I yesterday realized of which a good part of everything what it has happened to me in the life has strange connections with many of the things that come to me at the top in the situation in which I am. It is not easy to explain. It either does not desire to me to do it... I do not know, is as if my life was an article of the Wikipedia, in which of each ten words linkada "to another article has", that as well "linka" with first or a third different one which it will take to first in a perfect vicious circle... I feel so tired... I am having some problems with the anxiety. It has taken at least enough in reappearing. I cannot be complained the vacations that I have had while, I suppose. Not yet I have been going to punturar to me nor I have resumed the appointments with the psychologist of the dream. ... I feel totally lost in the circumstances of my life. And I do not know if that is good or bad. So far the only thing that I feel is sadness and certain rage. Although, trying to be something more optimist, also I lodge a very small hope of which at the moment in which it sees the clearest things I will watch inside and outside me and I will be able to affirm that I am much more great, who I have let grow a little plus my soul.
Comments