kiru_ne @ 2010-06-25T01: 13:00
It seems that this time I have to write in my mother tongue. Ironic considering that my mother is Aragonese, and even more ironic if you know that my mother always speaks Catalan. Anyway, I digress, as usual, and últimamnet seems that the crux of the matter.
try to find (find) a fault (cause) of all that, but the truth is that I have no fucking idea. The fact is that words are important to me. Very important. A feature extremely masculine if I make the case studies determine how the brain according to gender. Also very important to me it reciprocity. Mostly the sentimental. (And some would say that here is a very feminine trait) I like to be reciprocated, or at least some sign that I have proven that the person who gets my attention is given to women. Everything seems not too much to ask, right? Maybe my opinion is extremely subjective, but however much we try, there is a limit to objectivity. Anyway, I'm a retailer, you write, call, talk, explain, give ... and rarely receives a signal of approval. (That may not be receiving signals Prout approval. And here is the root of the problem, you do not know what it is worth, or if waiting is more than right now ask) bolloks!
around And I find I do not know what I'm writing. Where am I going with these ramblings. Ramblings, so I titularé the newspaper. And I can see, but my smile is enfotre of them the same and everything that surrounds it. Fortunately the devil gave us irony. I'm
to clear all this, but almost better to leave that testimony of the state of confusion in which I stand. In general, things are a fucking disaster, and not wonder who wanted me to hide in a cave and stay for cowering and flee far from here and not stop until fall of exhaustion. Although at the time. Pigs misery, they said.
Anyway, let it be. I know that every time I write less. I do not know where I was, where I head, whores or if I want to get there.
FTW
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