well,

i believe i'm the lucky one.

♥

I feel like a marshmallow melting inside. Unexpected, but extremely lovely. Just as Petit Prince's fox.

so Beatles come here and calm me down for a while.

is the glass half full or half empty?

I don't feel anything at all

Dear June,

You're not welcome. I don't want another month, days are passing really fast and I'm afraid of not being able to treat you well. I think I'll create another month, with 958 days, called Cucumber, between May and June. I know it would be more matchable if it was September, October, Cucumber, November, December (these months together could be a nice poem, right?). But I don't want June now. Maybe in 2012. I actually don't know if months are allowed to exist in this year. So deal with that.

nothing to lose

there's nothing to win tough. So let's escape to India to eat, pray and love. Let's paint a blank wall. And drink until alcoholic coma. And pretend we're in childhood again. Like Constable did. Let's find the cure to melancholy. Bras Cubas tried. There's nothing for me now, so let's have a conversation with Joana D'Arc. Let's bungee jump. And meet the incas in Japan or Finland. And have some insects for dinner. I have a chinese friend, but I don't think he has insects for dinner. My daddy does. Let's create a new religion. And build a transformer. A pink-gay-glittered transformer. Let's create packs of happiness to sell. I'd buy all of them. And I'd give some to my dog. Let's have a kid. Or ten kids. Or two rabbits. Rabbits are better. Let's sleep in a field of sunflowers. And dance around a bonfire. Like american natives. Praying for the rain. Let's become coreans. And travel to Callisto. I'm not losing anything. I don't feel like I actually have something. So let's create some kangaroos at home. I think kangaroos are cute. Let's fight against cowboys. They suck. Let's cut off our ears. And fall in love with each other. And get separated five years later. Let's die and reborn. And sing We Are the Champions. Let's ask Schopenhauer if he was depressed. Saramago would say he had a little bit of marasmus. I think I've got this marasmus thing. I think it's some kind of disease. So let's believe in something. I'd like to believe in something huge. So let's be Mario and Luigi. Actually, I'd rather be Toad... Well, maybe we should take a nap until spring, darling. Happiness, I'm waiting for you to hit us like a train on a track. Dog days must be over.

don't feel like writing

For the first time. Because in the minute feelings do materialize into words, the limit is estipulated - and soon the verisimilitude disapears. Maybe we don't feel like writing because we realize bad emotions hiden, and well, the fear always arrives when my fingers touch the keyboard. Sometimes the best way of living is not thinking about it. Ignorance is a gift.