rains. Yeah, sure, for that matter. Drop in the cold gray sky nose heavy rain, ... in August. But yes, for that matter. That the brain starts thinking too much, to work frantically to go and where the hell he wants ... it's raining ... damn rain. And it is summer this, with all the rain is. Two weeks of sunny and hot and is already over. Global warming. Climatic changes. 2012. End of the world. There is nothing to laugh about. It is a mess. Yet no one really thinks, everyone, including signed, with blinders on, so you'll be fine.
Metereopatia. Nothing more. It's all very well. Moments when you feel that nothing makes sense, when you're surrounded by chaos, you do not really know anyone, you can not trust anyone, least of yourself. Where all you are doing has no meaning, in which all efforts are in vain, however, happiness and - oddly enough, the happiness, if someone has a definition even remotely plausible, can you let us know when he wants, that we speak - and yet happiness is not something we ever reach, at least not for more than a few nanoseconds, useless.
Bah. Moments. It does not help to read, write, does not help try not to think about it, one can not always keep under control the thought. Or will our conscience. The bitch. Sometimes I hate the bitch. Sometimes she comes and ruins everything. Love-hate relationship, me and my conscience. By the way, I read Confessions of Zeno . I read a lot of things, I also study, for that matter, but I never have time. I never have time, there is never enough time. Here, now I hate you, time. I hate you, Mr. Weather , and I hate you, Mr. Time.
But there are those moments where you feel almost perfect, where everything and everyone is in the right place, everything is exactly as it should be, and at the behest of some Supreme Being - whose existence in those moments you do not even goes to the antechamber of the brain to doubt ... fuck is the antechamber of the brain then? - And at the behest of some Supreme Being The design is there, in front of us and that's how it's going, everything, and you insignificant little ant and crawling, you just have to let you go, and accept the road already exists along. Always. (Bad word, always. Even worse preceded by for). And everything is beautiful. And in those moments you have a head and you have music in front of a sky that blinds you to what is wonderful and the sea and its smell and its huge sound and feel every fiber of your body that you perceive is right and walk among strangers and you think that the human being is what is most amazing is created and you stop to think about things you have to do to the commitments that you have responsibilities that grow each day and stop worrying and you know that at that moment you and your conscience you totally agree on everything and you feel in the right place at the right time and within you will feel that okay. I forgot the comma does not matter. And you're so happy and kidnapped by this feeling, so peaceful that it makes you think here, now I want to die, this is happiness, and what more can ask a man to die happy? No matter when, how, where. Die happy. Easy to say.
moments. Do you miss something, and you still want, and to fight, to bring goals to achieve, and you can not, can not be happy until they have achieved. Then you think: just goals, basically I have everything I need, I have the beauty in my eyes when I watch the sky, I have it in your ears when listening to music, I have it in mind because they are more peaceful now I reached my goal. But how can a man continue to be fine and wanted to go ahead without a new goal to reach? Vicious circle. Paradox. It is impossible. If you know someone who has done presentatemelo, I want to know. The prophet of the twenty-first century. In my opinion, pretending, though. Prophet my ass. Likely that during a sleepless night has been sitting there in front of his consciousness, he tried to think a bit ', type: feel, okay, I do not want another, I want to live my stupid and meaningless existence without wanting nothing more that a new car and a nice house , but that did not want to end this and decided to gag her and close inside the cupboard, the poor. And he's been there, the poor, a lot of years in silence, sometimes the prophet remembered her, opened the closet, but just tried to talk a bit 'this was too angry to deal with a civil discussion , and shut him inside. Until one day that is broken and has devised a way out. It has literally made the mad prophet of the twenty-first century. From the asylum. A life shattered. Yes, I think that's how it went. A trick for your ass in the end. Better not joke with a clear conscience. Can wait in silence a lot of time, even a lifetime, but sooner or later we must get even, in one way or another. Dai, conscience, after all do not hate you, you're a bit 'on the cock of the time, like today, but in the end and resolve the differences that grow the relationship, no?
Moments ... Boh, in general I think it's worth it, anyway. I mean, listen to the conscience, to have one, you speak and makes you angry and make you accountable for everything that's wrong, inside and out, constantly ask you why all that happens. It gives you courage when you need it and no one else is doing it. The damper, worse than that pain in the ass of Jiminy Cricket, which in the end maybe you ruin the moments of happiness. Fuck the happiness, at this point. Yes, it's worth it every time. Even if it's raining and the sky is gray and gray too.
Ok, conscience, stop break up, now I'm going to study.
