From a mirror

Life is a journey not a season, get your memory out of that prison, I know there are nice memories but it's not sane to have obsession memories, pack your feelings and carry them in a bag until time tells you where to get them out.

Hey Lycan! I haven't seen you in a while, a lot has happened since that afternoon, however I was waiting for you without anxiety, because I know that in the nostalgia you arrive and you don't say anything, you get into my bed, my brain inquiries, until I can't ignore you no matter what I do, it's been a long time Mrs. Inspiration, muse of my good feelings, I invite her to have a drink, to smoke a cigarette like children who play at being mature and like a spell to cleanse the rage from my chest, at least for a while, until I wake up in that reality of which I am convinced, like routine, like doctrines, like so many things that make me think that I am in ruins, to be born, to grow, to reproduce, to die, because being alive is not exactly the same as living, I am going crazy and so much that I would like not to have discovered the truth, I feel that I am a dead person who lives in cover, each time my writings are more complicated, because I sometimes get complicated by nothing, my mind is my worst enemy, he told me, I will tell you what is a lie without thinking about the damage I would do, training to make money or studying things we sometimes even want, sculpting our bodies to be good, and well, we know that to see hearts all are blind, pride the ego talking about happiness without even knowing we want, everyone wants the prettiest woman, the newest car but, what about happiness? I admit that sometimes it tires me to fight and I would like to sleep to never wake up, but I remember those moments that several times gave me breath and that make me thankful to be awake.