sexta-feira, 29 de agosto de 2008

I always cry at endings.

I hate changes. Completely. I don't know their purpose. Well, that's a huge lie. Of course I know it. But I just cannot accept that. It is awful when you wake up one day and you are not who you were the day before. No, not any longer. You look at the mirror and see yourself older or different.
Such thing scares me at all. Things I cannot control, in fact.
Every day I go to school and pass by a man, an old man, who smokes a pipe (I do not know if it is really a pipe, but that's the way I remember this man. It can be just my imagination). I wonder, now and then, how the things would be if he died. Would that street be different from now? Would my sight of the world become any other because of a person with whom I had never spoken before?
I have no idea. But I think that, somehow, he became a part of me. I usually think of him like a sailor, I don't know why. Perhaps because he remembers me of an old, old man of a book I love.
I am running away of the main idean. I mean, what is bothering me is the fact that I, myself, am changing a lot. Manner of thinking, points of view, the way I act or answer the world around me. I am too afraid of everything ...

I wish the world woul stop
and start singing me a song
abou how it can be like always.
and forever it will be whatever
we want it to.

Am I a dreamer? A foolish girl?
Oh... surely.
I really always cry at...