To have something to say, something to tell, a
repressed experience, that you have kept for fear, fear or shame, something
that you would want to release, something like pain, a wound stored deep inside
your being. That's how I felt.
More than your treachery's and aggressions, I
was hurt by what you made me believe, that no one would listen to me, you made
me believe that heaven would not listen if I screamed in silence.
Shame and self-pity, some of the reasons I
suffered in silence ... goes beyond not wanting to betray you, has to do with
me, a constant struggle with myself, a struggle I did not want to externalize,
I did not want to show. Put a breastplate for the rest, not see how fragile you
can be, how weak the other gives you, but especially how little you value
yourself to stay there.
Can you get out of there? Yes you can ... but
to overcome you must free, open to the outside your greatest pains, like the
one you - or rather myself - made me live.
the life is a way of prohibition about the things that we can say.
ResponderEliminarso deep
ResponderEliminarwho must I kill?
ResponderEliminarThis is art in all it's form
ResponderEliminaris it a story written by you?
ResponderEliminar