Good Fridays loneliness of the last half year seem sad but inspiring.
3 December. A book in my bag Jodorowski Caribbean. A shirt that looks best on me now that I have tits. Pass a string of days of abstinence. Loca, puerperal, empty, lack of everything. I wanted, and looking, walking down the aisle madly at 3 am. Fear still feel the discomfort between the legs. A heated ceiling fan. A girl of 3 years sleeping. And I looking for a prince rescuer in the window of the web. But today something
calmed down, and that I did not take psychotropic drugs, not meditate, I looked. Something fell like a ripe fruit by clicking on my chest. And I was proud of all these months of fighting. Where I get all horrible but I fight like a lioness, every day, in search of that dream destination. And I get stuck, you can call me unstable or compulsive but not inert, not cheated by inertia. I grow a little twig, a bit of root. I do not remember what it was like to be alone and at peace. Without hope. And now there's nothing to do, there's nothing on TV that look like ... I have no fear that these hours are hours lost nameless. I am worth something and that which I desire, I will not move uneasy drops begging desperate love, losing their dignity. I will cultivate
myself, I will believe to be all powerful to fall in love with me. I will choose with the heart and not with magazines. I'll be amazed at all my possible selves. I'll laugh at all my past appointments. I'm gonna dance like crazy in the mirror, sexy, brunette, blonde, sweet, burnt.
This month I am going to encourage me to shamanism, to orthomolecular medicine to psychomagic, the art of living and Christmas alone. And in January I rest in peace .... Gasoleros toast to January 1, I want someone to pay me the vacation, and I came back a prince anchunas green.
3 ham and cheese.
I miss you baby girl when you're with your dad, that, just.
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