Realmente no recuerdo exactamente de cuándo fue este escrito, cuarto semestre de la preparatoria, así que probablemente fue entre febrero y mayo del 2010. Tenía 16, tenía faltas de ortografía y problemas mentales que a la profesora de inglés le pasaron por el arco del triunfo.
If I could fly on my thoughts, I think I would find many scary, and maybe, interesting things. Sometimes, digressing is the best thing to do in a rainy and sad day, just like last Sunday.
Being alone isn’t a nice hobby, people don’t like it, they always need to be with someone, because they hope to be accepted… If I were someone, I would be nobody; sometimes, it seems to make sense.
I could be a good person, if people let me, they might see that I’m an interesting girl, just if they gave me a chance, it isn’t hard to do.
Stop playing with my time…
I’m thinking of going out of myself, to float far, far, away. If you were here, maybe, just maybe, it would be easier, easier to find a reason to be me.
If I were a cloud, air would be my skin, if I were water, rain would be my soul, a clear, fresh and innocent soul. If I were the sun, fire would be my blood, the moon could be my eyes and the whole universe would be my smile…
Answer me! Why is the sky crying stars every night? Why is the moon so alone? So shiny, so white, so beautiful… why isn’t the sun smiling? Is the world crashing down? Are my eyes an endless hope?
There’s always a reason to be here, we might understand, if we listened; we could fly in our thoughts, if we knew how to. If we didn’t need to be perfect, we would be free again; I could be beautiful, if the moon smiled again, if she stopped crying…
I could go out, if it weren’t raining comets, I would love to see colorful flowers, to taste beautiful colors, to feel the most intense smells… If I had a bubble to get inside of, everybody would forget about me, they wouldn’t remember my steps. I could be beautiful, if the moon smiled again, if she stopped crying…
Why do people sleep? What’s the real reason? To dream, just dream, to rest from the trash of the world, they might dream awake, if they didn’t have to be real.
Happiness is a warm gun.
Life is so unexpected; it would be boring if life were predictable. LIFE teaches you that you need to fight, to be strong, that weak dudes always fail; if you thought that weakness is fine, you would always fail, and fail. Get up, THIS IS REAL LIFE.
I like to walk in your breath, to sleep in your eyes, to live in your smile. Time makes me blue so bad, it always takes you away from me… If I flew, and could be as lightly as air, I’d be your breath, your skin, your beauty, your soul… And if I played with buttons, with colors and shiny lights, life might be easier to eat.
Life is so fair that is unfair. People laugh, people cry all over the world, they have hope, they are happy, but they are so desperate, so hopeless… If people had antennas and everything were upside down, we could understand each other, we would be part of life.
Maybe they are tired.
The sun wouldn’t light us if people didn’t smile, the moon wouldn’t go out if she weren’t looking for something, for somebody, for love… she feels so alone and cold up there… if I could hug her, I would do it; I could be her company, and she would be mine. If the moon talked, she might tell us wonderful stories about love, things that she had seen, songs that she had heard, if she sang, everybody would listen to her, and she wouldn’t be so alone… so cold.
If I got up of my dream, I might be sleeping anyway, Morpheus never leaves me alone, maybe I’m falling for him; and I know that if I woke up, he wouldn’t have anyone to follow, to watch over.
It would be easier to find a fluorescent soul if we ate fireflies, happiness could be easy to see, to feel, to taste. If everyone jumped planets, we might find a perfect place to live, a perfect world for each one.
I’d like to be a fluorescent soul, maybe people would notice about me, notice that I exist, that there’s a strange mushroom that needs help, that has a soul too.
Right now, the sky is quiet, the sun is praying, the moon is sleeping, oh, the stars love the moon so much, but she can’t see the love: STARS, just see how’s her resting.
They tumble blindly as they make their way across the universe.