“I’m not that person who comes back easily so don’t recognize me as a temporality in your priorities list. I’m a friend who cares until the last breaths of friendships but loses all memories and interests when something tells me it’s not necessary anymore. I’m not a person who blows a gathering because he isn’t treated well enough. I’m a generosity source but not expecting gratefulness from any. It feels different, sometimes stupid to be such a wide character with patience and tolerance. I remember your first attempt to scare me and put some of your restrictions around. I remember how I ignored it to make you feel like you’re more important than an argumentative issue, and in the contrary how you insisted to draw me a rope of guilt and remorse on what I have the right to choose.”
“I always try to understand what’s wrong. Where’s the missing point in my relationships with others? Am I kind of violent? Hated? Misunderstood? Wrong? Or is it a great difference that separates me from other people’s interests? I don’t get it sometimes why every time one gets to hurt me I don’t focus on the reasons why such situations keep on happening. I see that the counter of haters grow within each opportunity for me to introduce myself; I feel that I need better surroundings, familiar lovers. Yet I still don’t understand how people hate me. You aren’t tough, I expect too much. That makes me panic so often. Panic because there’s something wrong with me, or with the whole world. Then what am I supposed to believe?”
“I don’t know what a close friend means to me. I talk to myself through a broken mirror while each has his close friend to speak to. I shut people away, and people read many quotations to feel their value that they don’t see me giving them. All of them know their values, but none knows what happened to mine. I live in mazes inside a clear mind. Loving people so much sometimes, other times running away from their company. People don’t recommend a selfish space, even when it’s temporary, it attacks their pride. I only need some minutes to recover, but they want me to be there in a second. I’m not a bad person slamming doors and lovers, I’m not always ready.”
“Many things annoy me in general. Some dive me crazy. Thoughtfully interesting my words are, I decorate them with dark spots in my heart but what a reflection they give; stunning and blurry. She knows I’m annoyed, he knows that too, unfortunately they don’t know how to treat me better. I’m left without glowing salvages and I hope I won’t need any in my future but salt will scarcely fade from the ocean, they barely mention that even. We will never stop being annoyed, not even will we control ourselves being annoying to what makes us annoyed. Seditious souls but still kinder than volcanic eruptions.”
wordienas 