Sometimes I have the impression of being surrounded by useless things, futile material things that do not make myself a better person. When the world begins to suffocate, I detach my mind from the world; I unplug and take refuge in myself. The great questions of existence come to mind and I ask myself what is the point of living a life in which we like nothing. I have always felt different from others, but not in the sense of superiority, but to understand some things more deeply, but lack the adequate character to explain them. I feel undervalued at times, almost invisible too. It makes me angry to think that others think I’m mediocre, or sufficient, or superficial, because I know I’m not. They are a human contradiction: make-up, dress, hairstyle are necessary to make me feel beautiful, but only one judgment, a minimum negative, to knock me down. Because I am like that, it takes a long time to build my self-esteem, but it takes nothing to destroy it. I also wonder why sometimes we give so much importance and power to other people, even those who don’t matter to us, to make us feel inadequate, to make us feel stupid for having a different opinion. Never allow anyone to make you feel wrong, but always fight for what you believe in and above all for who you are. You’re unique.


Time passes and leaves traces of stifled thoughts in the mind
Dancing of luminous moths as if they were air and dust. 
Where there is no rule to tell lies about people in balance. 
Nothing that can hurt to take refuge to protect ourselves from us. 
Because life goes like a crazy pinwheel. 
In going back and starting again in extreme need. 
Incoherence and nostalgia for acts left unfinished and empty. 
You were left to search in the mud for the habits of conscience. 

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