Probably maybe

Perhaps it was what it was, perhaps it was just an innocent imagination of a rebellious child looking for a reason to go against the world. Poor child of mine, believing the words of people would have more sense than my own. Perhaps it was just an illusion, a dream out of this reality, a disper of thoughts and believes. I believed! I believed! No dreamer couldn't see it through without being inside and touch it, smell it and feel it in their guts.

I ran downstairs one morning, looking for something stupid and childish, something i could have a play with. sunday morning, perhaps, saturday evening, not quite sure! Sometimes my days are all the same, no day light, no night at all...just a constant tic-tic from my watch, wasting each second, each dials, each moment. But i ran...i ran downstairs and i saw this thing...not too sure at first, but it was stange. A strange feeling took care of  my soul, my mind and i just stood there speachless attacked by the confusion inside my mind.

Sometimes, most of the times, we grow up lerning from everyone around us. each person tells you what is wrong, what is right, what you should or shouldn't do, you  you have to say or think or like.... then, one day, you ran downstair and you see that most of the things you have been told was just...wrong, untrue...It is fucked up when you have to deal with all those differences and learn everything again while people look at you as you were the crazier, stupieder person in our society. 

Sometimes i look back and i see things that i didnt see that clear back then and new feeling inprisons my mind creating nonsenses although it makes all the sense to me. Perhaps just like an esquizofrenic that doesn't have no one to talk to apart to himself. Are we all a bit of that? Are you all crazies looking for excuses to accept those crazy things in our mind? Don´t know...i really don't know! Im probably crazy for speaking my mind just like that, for uncare of what people might think of me. the truth is, that moment i ran downstairs and i saw the difference of me, the other me lost (or never found untill then). And i felt like i was draged into a fuzzy heaven, promiscuous heaven ans i felt so free, so me just like i was part of the Nature - one ghost lost in the wind, a leaf falling down the tree, a river that dies on the sea...the right, the wrong, the usual.

It is strange when you believe in something different, when you live in a different way, when you think different and you feel like you are just the same of the rest but they still seeing you as a diferent personage. Sometimes i felt like this wasn't my act, my sceene. I Felt like i was in the wrong theatre, with a wrong script playing someone else´s life.

but i live the beauty of life, im not afraid of being who i am or being just like this. Sometimes i think it would be easier if i were different, just like if i was another kind of person with a different personality, or just pretending to be. Perhaps it would be easier if i acted just like the majority of people in our society, perhaps i would be happier...we never know! But, what kind of happiness is that when we have to pretend? Is that true happiness? surely it isn't easy to live this way, to think loud or saying whatever we want to say, doing the things we really want to do, when we want to do it. Being savage of my own life, tramp of my own body, careless of my own acts is all what i need to go through this town, this region, this country, this world.

I propably maybe scare those around me...and sometimes i'm scared of myself more that the other in my life.

All what i want is to go downstais again and feel whatever i want to feel, being myself without feeling guilty for having my own way to live this stupid life. Because, you see, i dont dream of being rich, or drinking fame every single day or just sleep in a controvertial bed of luxury and bronze powder. I Just want to be able to live my life in peace, free in all senses...i wan't to be able to commit my own mistakes, to fall down and stand up, growing up every single day until the day i become ash, grass, part of the wind, a bit of the rain...and there, i know, that i ran upstairs and i will see what we can't see now, and i will blow each memory that rests in my mind, i will smell my own blood and discover each meal that i ate, each glass of wine that i drunk and the lips that i kissed...