Eight months since I took my breath anymore. Eight. I did not see the time go ... too fast or too slow ... ... or something. The fact is that if I close my eyes and think for a while, except that there are projects that have come and work for the trip, I could say that I follow in March. It is true that pain seizes me no longer, but still there ... the pain and sorrow, and occasionally poke and I still descolocando.
"Much of anyone unfortunate is, so to speak, in the shadow of disgrace, in thinking about it. That is in fact not limit one to suffer, but is forced to continue considering the fact that suffers. "
There is not a day I do not think all this. It's not permanent but there it is, wanting to jump out of his lethargy and remind the hole that has been me. Nor do I identify anything special to operate this spring in what I do, to avoid it (I want to avoid it? -that Is another sing-). Some say that music can be a trigger. I agree, but I highly localized music jogging my memory lane, so no, there are no shots. The autumn, the trees are left bare, rain, fog ... do not help ... but I like the autumn, I like the weather changes, I like to feel the cold in the face, so it should not be concerned station. At the end of the day and took a whole spring and all summer and here we ...
I begin to assume that things will happen in life that mark a before and after. It's like when you have children and do not go back to sleep soundly ever again. Yes, you go back to sleep well, yes, you're a trunk ... but as you slept before them no. Well this is the same: there is a before and after and never never nothing will ever be as it was before.
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