"My hair grows like a tired day
I spend waiting for me, you need to spend it? "...
I love poetry, poetry is full of sad narratives. Perhaps so, they say his face looks always vague sadness difficult to understand. I like to sit alone in a deserted cafe in an idle afternoon. I usually select seats near the window, to be able to guide eyes at people watching. It is interesting to observe all activities, listen to the sound very life of life when they are static. Friends who yelled at me not as "warm", "autistic". I just calmly replied: "Let me be!".
Really you need the minute "autistic" like. After the exhausting day in work by exposing face full of dust and smoke in the street or sitting for hours in front of computers in air-conditioned office, I want to be relaxed yourself, allowing yourself lazy a little. I can cry without fear delectable anybody prying, watching him with observing eyes tinged with pity. I hate the pity of others. I was too familiar with jealousy, and envy hustle, too familiar with the pinched and injustice in life. For a long time, I did not feel surprised or warm memories for such things anymore. Life taught me a lot, including the "accept" and "patience".
You, a little girl, living away from family time has more than 10 years. Between the city and full of pitfalls noisy, though not wise understanding also admitted to hold myself not fall. It's just that sometimes you feel tired, tired for you to keep up so his gong. I fear the fake smiles, good afraid someone suddenly with his unprovoked. How do you know the other smiling faces after what they think of themselves? Ingenious shall be considered fake. Honestly it was called stupid.How should I live to please all here?
Yes consecutive day time you also non-motor unit through all of this to the other facility for handling work from early morning until late at night. Have a hot day over 40 degrees, face darken, blistered skin, ragged hair like straw because the scorching sun. There are today pouring torrential rain, the whole body twitched, frostbitten hands, ten fingers again withered as dried apples still clutching scooters which launched. Think back to the room at the inn loner, tears pouring.Many self reproached myself so weak that!
"To live is to be strong, self-pleasure to know, to be proactive," ... I've read dozens of articles, hundreds heard the advice "to this daughter, so that ...". Do you also see all favorite, word also see sense. Yet why are you still primary heart? I just hope this time, that someone will appear in your life by your side when you are sad, take my hand when I was weak and the key shoulder to lean times you tired. A person can confide with you, accept my ego and not hurt you like a lot of people did, there hardly too much?