Spațiu spațiu spațiu spațiu ospăț spațiu

Bine.
Nu știu ce să scriu. Ceea ce e ciudat. E a suta oară când stau pe același scaun. Cu aceeași melodie, simțind același lucru. Lucruri, adică. Mintea mea merge iar în fraze scurte, caută dramatism, știi tu.

Îmi e frică pentru că retrăiesc același lucru de prea mult timp... simt că omoară tot ce e mai bun în mine, dacă a mai rămas ceva... 
Mi-am pus jurnalul pe un blog în ideea că o idee explicată cuiva nu e chiar la fel de pierdută. Când cânți, nu vrei ca sunetele să se piardă în pereți și în urechile tale. Când plângi, e bine să fie cineva acolo.
În fiecare cotlon se răspândește frica, mâhnirea, singurătatea. Oriunde ești nesigur, singur, înfricoșat, frustrat.

Să îi înveți pe alții din greșelile tale. Nobil. O iluzie.
Aștept cu picioarele-mi legănându-se peste bordură. Poate am să învăț într-o zi, mereu încerc, mereu greșesc.

Oversharing with the void. Best fucking illusion I could have been sold. Go team I, go, go...

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