What to think about?

I stood up and felt the cold floor beneath me. I miss it when everything seemed to be good and like nothing's impossible. Like life's worth it. I'm not saying that it all isn't true, just miss feeling like this.

I'm kinda afraid but someday I will know why. What am I scared of.

"I wanted so badly to lie down next to her on the couch, to wrap my arms around her and sleep. Not fuck, like in those movies. Not even have sex. Just sleep together, in the most inocent sence of the phrase. But I lacked the courage and she had a boyfriend and I was gawky and she was gorgeous and I was hopelessly boring and she was endlessly fascinating. So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was a hurricane."

Tercer traste.

Me deslizo por las cuerdas de la vida, de puntillas, escribiendo mi propia canción. Todavía no se el nombre de la obra. Lo sabré cuando la termine. Extraño, verdad? Cuándo la obra este terminada, ya no habrá obra. Supongo que nunca tendrá nombre. No parar de tocar. Hasta que las llagas de tus dedos sangren, ahí está el secreto. Por ti. Por el. Por ella y por mí. Y ver como bailan tu música, tu ritmo, y que se junte con sus melodías.