Las huellas que dejo...

Las huellas que dejo me pesan, Son esos fantasmas que se me han metido hasta la membrana del hueso, Son de esas cosas, de las que no me puedo liberar. Trato de no soltarlos, para que entre mis letras no se marquen con esas huellas para que mis oraciones no vengan con lecturas entre lineas para no salpicar tristezas. Pero estos, si no los dejo, si no los suelto... pesan más. Es un vaíven de paradojas de frustración. No, no creo que alguien venga a decirme todo sin eco de interés, Sin cola de interés que sea libre de mancha. y tampoco creo en mi. Desorden... Desorden....... Y ver palabras endulzadas con interés de acento.

I hate to being this.

I hate to being this kind of "self". All I want is in my dreams, but I don't know why, I can't do anything for them. I want to being a different life everyday... but is that posible, with this kind of self? I'm scared they could think about me... I don't feel that I'm in a good way rightnow. Lately, I've just been here, deep in the internet, making nothing good but reading. I know I could be that kind of "self" that I want, that I dream of... but where is the fucking damn desire of? I don't know. I want to be an different person... I really want to go out and make to myself something else, someone else, someone that is deep inside this fucking fat and mindless courage. .... ... .. . I will try to write again, because I've left it long time ago... It's been 4 years already.