vendredi, novembre 04, 2011

Missing the point

I might be old already. And that's a shame. I blame... The books I've read written by those who lived in a different decade. People I got along with who are twice my age. Discussions with my father often very late. A sensibility I was born with that doesn't seem to fade. Lessons of an era that insists on ending. Dreams of a naïve little girl focused on giving. The pursuit of a meaning. A country I was born in that seems to enjoy suffering. A love stronger than the practicality of existing. A cynism that goes hand in hand with living. I blame bitter experiences that woke me up from a deep sleep. A man I met who invited me to dive too deep. A passion for what's real. A determination to feel. A fear of wasting precious time. A keenness on making things rhyme. A lack of a specific talent to work on growing. A curiosity attracted by anything interesting. I feel old. And I blame the young society I decided to overpass. I blame the mass. Halloween parties, I blame. I find them lame. Fake discussions I hate. I choose a different fate. Lies I despise. I choose my tv often more wise. I feel old and its not my fault, its my mold. I realised too early that life was fragile. That my existence was brief even though I was agile. That the ones I truly care about can leave me without prior notice. That them only deserve my focus. I hate pretending that by being shallow I'm being young. For being young is more than a song. The heart is there or it is not. And mine is often all over the place even though I'm not. I might be missing the point or everyone else is. Ill live the only way I know and that is ... Choosing that you will be my cause. My prose. I might be old and I cannot help it. But I found you to give me a meaning, and I like it. When we dream, when we fly. When we kiss, when we cry. When being young stops depending on others. When you buy me flowers. When I feel that I got it right. When I can be crazy and take the next flight. Destination unknown. It doesn't matter, I won't be on my own ...

You make me write in English.
You, I cherish.

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