nuevo

It is time to write. This time to say good bye again, but in a different way. There are different kinds of struggle in here, inside this hat. The one that has got me busy the most relates to the idea that she is not an idea. But here is the dilemma, there was never something there that I could call mine. Well, there was a lot to consider but nothing to take. Here my problem. If there was something that could be called mine it was the wrong idea, for she is not an idea. Paradoxically, she escaped this hat and could not be reached even after I tried so hard by telling the winds to carry my message. Maybe I did not try at all.

Today I try to forget, forgetting that is not an idea, as if it was one. Something got stuck in my head, but only after it had already seeped in through every membrane that composed me. What a ridiculous idea. He who is religious calls it faith while hoping it will become fate. I will not call it anything anymore, and try to sweat it out before it drowns me. This ocean, so immense, escapes me by the instant. That is what it all seems to be, an instant. If it was a spark it lit nothing. Fire does not get along with the water very well, but we all knew that.

Maybe this vision has taken the best of me—hopefully not. Today, I start breaking the mirrors since it is more than clear that they won't brake themselves. It is going to be the hardest thing, but if of something I'm sure is that you know where to find me. One day I'll let it be. Now, I write.

Disculpame por las molestias causadas. If I'm silent it is because I can't wait any longer, and to utter a word is too hard. What's the reason? There's no reason, only fire burning out.