Life is made up of many small daily struggles, duties to which we must obey and leave the impression of missing time .
My mind is a wanderer.
stay still I worry and salt for every place I visit my mind travels from those that will never see. This morning I woke up with the wind that knocked on the window ... traveled roads invisible wind up down in the park Aniene. I stayed there for a while to take the essence, until you feel overflowing heart. I'm not a person off, anything, but my efforts in this life seem similar to that crazy, I always told my grandmother, who tried to dry up the river drinking ... it's like there was always someone with a lot more thirsty than I . And I'm wasting my chances, I feel lost on paths unknown and anxiety for those who have undertaken. In theory, life should be as simple as breathing, but when we breathe, we do not think when to inhale and exhale air, and then, perhaps, but say just maybe, should think less and live longer.
E 'with indescribable sweetness that should accommodate those moments when you dedicate yourself, you are discarding the clothes to work, they sit on the table the important thoughts, concerns, and turns the mind to all those things that are real reason why we live. Why is it so, we endure pain and bitterness, difficult situations and colleagues is not heavy because we have to, but simply because we know there is something else: but there is a prize that awaits us? studies and work I have always been confined to construction sites and offices, meeting rooms and debris, but if I can when I can escape. Who cares if my trips are short-term goals or my neighbors. No matter if in this period of my life journey alone. Traveling is satisfied my desire to see, speak, learn and find new places to remember and imagine in those moments when I longed so much behind that desk, and so little used. And then there are the books. Certain periods of my life I can only say that the books have saved me, I do not know who or what, but I'm sure they did. As far as I know, some people consider me a little expansive, I absolutely needs of others. not those "other" indistinct and mass forming the background against which inevitably spend long days, months and years. The "other" I try, I miss, which I feel the need to share a thought, I love to meet, those who embrace those of seeking physical contact, those with which it is enough just to stay together in silence to give me peace, give me happiness, few people with whom I feel I have shared a little 'blood. These are the people who made my world brighter. They are also the people who today, for one reason or another, there are no more physically walk regularly ... but in my heart ... memories are just memories that if I lean on me for a moment the emotions overlap. And I remember the emotions are no longer what I felt then, remembering the emotions even buy a new light and dimension fantastic ... In recent months I have been told many times, perhaps as a rebuke, that is a cool person, and I firmly refused, because I feel the blood boiling just beneath my skin, but I wonder if they are right.
What you feel inside should be evident even out ... or not?
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