People have mistakes written all over their body...
Maybe it was not my fault at all, maybe I did nothing wrong, maybe it was only you who made a decision with which you were familiar and repeated the process, just like turning on a computer everyday. You repeated the process because you were used to it. To end one more time, so you do not have to suffer by the hands of fear, so you do not have to wonder so much. The deadly weapon of wonder.
Now, here I am, experiencing life as I never thought I would. Here I am analyzing you, feeling sorry for you because you are out of your mind, out of your heart, out of me. You are miserable, and happy for the wrong things, filling that emptiness of yours with "progress", with "correctness", and the most important, silly of them all, "peace." You are pretending to hate me for causing you distress, frustration and moroseness.
Well, guess what? I may think way too much outside the box, always, always will... that´s why I anguished, that´s why I fell apart. I never stopped telling you this, never. I never stopped acknowledging you about those wretched but magnificent things about me. You were so lucky, for the reason that you touched what most people can´t touch. You were so lucky, on the grounds that you observed with me beyond the illusion, and weirdly, it felt more like a fairytale.
I did not enjoyed despair, I just liked to think in abstract monuments, as well as in many possibilities, possibilities creeping into me as an sticked idea that was not even mine.
Oh , you were so lucky, brightened by the true colors of a broken, but perfect soul.
You can convince yourself of million marvels, and that´s just fine if it helps you, but you know what? You could not convince yourself of one of the simpler and most resplendent things of them all...
You were the exception.
Now I reckon that you did not know yourself either.
