The thing is: I can hang myself in the shower: of course. In the first place, I didn't have the doubt. But after so many attempts, I realize that I'm too heavy. So, I'm thinking of jumping to the rails but it's too cold outside and I have to put half of my wardrobe on me. What an issue...
So, there's another option: to stay alive. What for? I do not know. Well, yes. I know: I still love too much the people I love who are the people I miss. Yes. My heart still beats for: you know who. And my mother, brother, father, cat, dog, fish, cockroach, rat and spider are my lovely family and they love me. I know.
It's not because I am depressed or because I'm run out of Prozac. Ok, hold on. Let me check. Yes! I still have. But I'm curious about not being. That's it. Maybe There I can found the way to come Here and tell how it is to be There. You know: that There. The far-far there. But closer, too. And be rich sharing the information. With a big chinchorro and café con pan every afternoon, good alcoholic drinks, some weed, books, someone to spank, internet and with a giving-money-and-not-talking machine.
It's not about sadness, altough, I got to say that winter does not help at all and I've been here like a small and -nette- bear doing nothing but reading and writing and singing and dancing and cooking and having some wine and some beer and being the best host ever and partying a lot and getting drunk. At class, at university, with friends, buying new clothes and trying to have good sex but with one-not as an answer in my last, I’ll use that word again, attempt. Yes. I've been doing what I do. And I am doing what I like to do. I'm a specialist in that area. I mean, in getting drunk.
So, there's not gun. -Jedoch- there are -viele- knives. But I aún care about the cleaning girl. Too messy, finally. It's so hard to find reasons for making some drama when, at the end of the day, everything seems too perfect. Yeah, I know: that no! Yeah, it's not hard to handle it. But it's my first time. My first no. Try to wear my shoes.
I should complain and I am. I'd love complaining. Especially when there are people around me. I love bothering people: just because. Even when I complain about things that I really do not believe or do not even care. Not even a bit. But it's so much fun to build up this controversy sometimes, this feeling of uncomfortableness. Or those gestures meaning (or replying): shut up, don't be so arrogant. Because finally, people facing those feelings look so alive. So nice. But I don't mean it. Really. I apologize. No, I don't but...ok, no, I don't. However, no, I don't.
Indeed, I don’t need to. People really don’t care about what I say or think or complain. And they’re right. They know that I know and I know they know and they know I know they know. (I could continue but you already have understood my point).
So, love is the issue. Love is in the air! Remember? Well, it’s not in the air and we really don’t know if it actually exists. And it doesn’t matter. What it matters is what we believe in. I believe in it. No, I don’t...ok, no, I don't. However, no, I don't.
Yes, I do.
I have my way to love. Everybody has a way to love. And I love and cuddle and sigh and smile and suffer and miss and cry. I like to cry. And I love to smile.
Yes, I’m human after all. No, I’m not…ok, no, I’m not. However, no, I am not.
Yes, I am.
And I am sehr glücklich de serlo.
Yes Mr. God. I am.
Then, just wait. I'll be there anytime soon.
No, I won't...ok, no, I won't. However, no, I won't.
Yes, I will.