sábado, 8 de novembro de 2014

The Same Old Things

I sit in a bar; ask a drink, a beer, whatever...
Trying to distract myself from the things my fucking mind. You know, things are always there. They are playing hide.
Between sips, thoughts begin to flow, and he sees some distraction? Just relax your legs, effects of alcohol.
I try to turn me off of the machines, try to invent a good thought, because what is at present no help.
Ready. My legs are lighter than my shoulders once (age of child)
Now I can go...
In next weekend will do the same? And so it goes...
The repair of problems comes in small potions. The outfit comes with a swig of beer.
I don’t want to hear any more, I don’t want to talk. I don’t want anyone to tell me anything… I did not want to take slaps in the face.
And I suck at disguises. I disguise with my guy who just got out of the comfort.
An anxiety hits me mercilessly. I try to look at as normal ... It seems that everyone is at the table is always a higher level of pretense.
What goes with them? Are “super heroes? " No. It's just that their legs do not relax, but the mind does.
So the problem is with me? Of course it is.
The fact is between accepting plunge into a temporary illusion, generated as a consequence of the doping medium and long term.
The illusion remains eating all thoughts about everyday problems.
Until they actually realize. It is. And what has changed? Absolutely nothing.
But, yes, things change. It is a fool who does not realize.
You can stand up with the same friends, the same things, but realize the depths of things have changed.
Fix a problem by creating another problem.
No, the fault lies not in the illusion. You can drink, take drugs, and swallow anything. The problem is not to find a reasonable and practical solution.
The problem is using the same tactic ever. The same effect as always.
Personally ... tired. And finding a solution is difficult.
I was supposed to already be conformed to all ... will see it that way. Between a distraction and another. And require more than that is falling into a dead end.
I don’t have shoulders Child

* The last post...

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