They will be gone

The fact is that we're in times of trouble. My dreams I have when I'm awake have abandoned me in the dark. They're lost, and I can't find them. They're my children, and I miss them. I admit having been arrogant due to their existence... but now... here I am, offering free hugs. Not because people need them (they actually do), but because it is me who do need them.

And at night... the moment I think those daylight nightmares leave me alone, and that I'll get some sleep, in solitude (,) I find more dreams (not nightmares) lying ahead of me. It is problems, worryings that I do have when awake, but I can somehow avoid. Fortunately, this will definitely not be one of those calamities that remain for some time, nor will it seem eternal. It will last days, maybe weeks, but it will leave. It will leave, as teardrops in the rain.

Lovely speechless man in love

She was talking about places she had been to, about the places she loved. She never talked about the people she knew, she cared about. She did not know anyone. She was everyone's "mate", and also Nobody's friend. She only spoke of those places where it is easier to find her, at least temporarily. No, she does not have name, nor surname. It is widely spread that she is the aim to achieve, just a path to go through life. Yes, she is "H".

Heavenly Hurt!

Today, I need to let my arrogance out. I need to let it out of me, let it speak through and for me for a while. I don't usually let it walk freely, as I would let my dog walk freely. I have done it, however, more often than I used to do it in the past. It may not be arrogance, but selfconfidence, that I know myself. You might misunderstand me, I might have a new 'enemy' for this short piece of writing. I don't care. In my life, I will talk about many things, but I will write about even more things. I am going to create so many new stories... They will be short enough so they will not be taken into account, they will be so dense that they will make you sick. Remember me when I publish something, when you hear I am great at what I do, because I will have worked hard enough to get it. However, it might happen in a moment I am not prolific, as it could be said right now.
As I study dead poets as tortured as I am, mentally speaking, new poets/writers to come, all better than I am, are going to get motivated. Because they will see I am not as good as my writings will be. It's just that I am conscious of my changing, how my feelings and ideas go to and fro, and I'm (sometimes) able to tell them, somehow. You may not see every thread of these spiderwebs I write.
Here I leave my message in this bottle. You all are my ocean, the way my message go through, and see if it gets somewhere.

Around and around again

Go crazy, grow old, go back, go fast. The worst part of getting lost is that you do all of those things, but you do not know how, nor when, nor why, nor even the order of them. Will it ever be a moment for me to understand not only who I am, but how the world spins?

The remains of the shipwreck

I have sinned again, whoever you are. I do not even know if you can hear me, or if you condescend to read what I write. I did not have dinner sat on a chair, again. I took my plate, full of chicken breasts, and put it back to where it was before. There was enough space on the table, but what irritated me most was how many empty chairs there were. I decided to change my habits while I was putting the fifth or sixth bite of my food to the empty space between my black woman lips. Every movement I made was slow. Strangely slow, as if I had been slowed down. I masticated slowly, rose up the fork and down again as if the hero in the film had been shot, and he knows he is about to die. The only "normal" gesture was the cutting. And that is because loneliness does sometimes make me agresssive and I do some things faster than usual. The fact is that my life is being really slow lately.

Monster

I do not let anyone in unless I want them to. One at a time, if that ever happens. Due to more than one thing, obviously. It may come from one or more bad things, but that doesn't really count, actually. I am trying to open up my mind and heart, despite all the difficulties of the process and of the reasons why I'm doing it. The socialising hardship has been long misunderstood. It has been me who did not really want to understand. I do not think "understand" is the appropriate concept. I have never wanted to make the effort to show I do understand it, I just do not agree with it. I do not want to get lost in misleadings relationships, I just want to know I am doing well, that I will be fine, no matter what, no matter how. I hope I will not regret saying this but I will say it anyway: I will never lose the faith in the human being and our ability to change, to look for new goals, and to miss what we have left behind. I do not mean missing it so much you are sad, but wishing to see those things again. Not in the same way, of course. Nothing is as it was, as it has been. I cannot prevent my whishes from telling me to go to bed and rest for a week or longer. It has been my pleasure to meet your today.

White Walkers

My tongue is tied and my arms, exhausted. I'm mental and my legs can't stop moving. I don't know where I'm going, but least I know where I'm coming from. This might be the beginning of the end, but I don't really care, actually. My days are quite stressful. I wonder wether I should be feeling bad because things aren't as easy as I had expected them to be. It's far harder than I thought it would be, but I don't mind at all. I'll get used to it, and that's the main point. I may be too high to see the point, or even what I shall do. I just don't worry about it, I'll figure out what I have to do. I need to take my time. One week is not enough.

My Life as a Duck

It is not that hard to get used to changing. I may be slow in realising how lucky we all are in living such things like the Erasmus. Days may sometimes seem an emotional rollercoaster to me, as when I was 15 or 16 years old. However, it looks like it's getting better and better. It is getting easier. I love meeting new people, despite my beeing too shy. The fact that you can share opinions with almost anyone you would have never met had not it been for this experience is awe-inspiring. Yesterday, I had one of those conversations you like. You talk about everything and nothing at the same time. It is not a silly conversation, but it is not deep, either. It is kind of that "meet & greet" thing between two cultures, some people who want to understand each other. Like potentially good friends. My message is not clear and object to be criticised, as it always is. Some things can never change. Some of them must never change. ( http://youtu.be/GbB-2itpw5U - Charlie Winston's My Life as a Duck)

I say Never

When there's really no choice of going back or going on, what will you do? You cannot stay still, of course. That's the momento you never want to live, but you never stop living.
Let yourself go, try moving on, step by step. Remember to take it easy, yo!

Suppletion

Un tropel de pensamientos le abordaban, le arrollaban sin cesar. Era todo tan caótico que lo entendía, y le daba miedo. Todas las cosas que le habían llevado ahí, todas esas ideas, tonterías, bromas, malentendidos... Y todo lo que quería era más; era, más bien, todo, no sólo más. Quería poder decir todas esas cosas que pensaba en alto. Quería ser libre, quería ser feliz. Te quería a ti.

P.S.: suppletion: unrelated stems may code grammatical categories within a paradigm. An example is the verb "to be", with an unrelated past tense (was/were). This can also be combined with suffixation. OE beon (con raya perpendicular a la E) had preterite singular wœs, plural wœr-on.

How much did 21 grams weigh?

How many lives do we live? How many times do we die? They say we all lose 21 grams... at the exact moment of our death. Everyone. And how much fits into 21 grams? How much is lost? When do we lose 21 grams? How much goes with them? How much is gained? How much is gained? Twenty-one grams. The weight of a stack of five nickels. The weight of a hummingbird. A chocolate bar. How much did 21 grams weigh?

Hundred Years of Solitude

That growing feeling of solitude is unavoidably emerging and I can't help letting it out from me. I feel loved, yes, I do, but I do need something else.
I sometimes feel broken up, as if I had nothing else but my thoughts, and my questionably improved self-confidence. How do I know that? I just don't know. I'm considerably much better this way, regardless of what it may look like.

When there's no way back.

Leave it all behind; take it seriously; care about it until you can't help thinking of any other thing; forget it, and try sleeping. But first of all, your first thought must be of running away.

Aye!

You need to turn it off straight away. You don't want to remember what it is, what it means, because that kind of feeling is harmful, and you don't understand. You may wanna cry, and shout, and say something that might help you. But there's nothing available in the shop of life which could let it all go. And once it's outta sight, it won't let you know, it will just not be there. Wait til that day comes! It will be worthy.

1984

The Party said that Oceania had never been in alliance with Eurasia. He, Winston Smith, knew that Oceania had been in alliance with Eurasia as short a time as four years ago. Bit where did that knowledge exist? Only in his own consciousness, which in any case must soon be anihilated. And if all others accepted the lie which the Party imposed - if all records told the same tale- then the lie passed into history and became truth. "Who controls the past," ran the Party slogan, "controls the future: who controls the present controls the past". And yet the past, though of its nature alterable, never had been altered. Whatever was true now was true from everlasting to everlasting. It was quite simple. All that was needed was an unending series of victories over your own memory. "Reality contol", they called it: in Newspeak, "doublethink".

(George Orwell's 1984)

Where else?

It had been much long since the last time he had laughed so hard and so sincerely. He could not even remember a moment he could say it was a "happy moment". Long after his father's dead, he could stare at the window and say "finally". There was nothing else but rain and darkness beyond the window-pane. However, he was the only and sufficient light in the room.

Maybe someday he could be remember that significant moment, yet since then on he lived his life in conscious of every step he took, every memory he made,

Never say never

It's that kind of feeling you can never describe. Yes, that feeling. Technically, it's not an only one. It is, basically, a conjunction of many and completely different emotions. They run through your head and torture your body and mind simultaneously, gathering all of those memories that keep your eye awake. They remind you of all those things you've done that you don't regret, but wouldn't repeat nor remember.

Standing still is a tough exercise of endurance. Moving on or staying in is not one's choice but everyone's.