More time passes, fewer friends I have.
I'm talking about Cuernavaca. I left this strange city, one that I can not call my home.
When on holiday I find myself in that city, I feel bad, I despair. I'm bored, I cry, I squirm, just the opposite of the self that lives in this city. It's as if I were two people sharing a body. That part of me that longs Cuernavaca, my life, my old friends, someone I've tried to bury them deeply, until he dies.
'm in Cuernavaca ... lying on my bed. Nothing to do. The phone does not ring, nobody speaks, nobody calls me, nobody knows me. I get angry, and I feel l á stima of myself and how pathetic I am.
Stuff happens. People meet, people afast, people fight, people get happy. And I was not over. I am just a spectator watching takes this bizarre drama, and I want to be part of it, but a thicker wall of glass prevents me, I built a wall.
Damn, damn, the hate. But I hate to know that there's more hate.
Why I can not esquece? I get the hell out of my life. I do like it never existed.
My family there is all that binds me to this city that damn city. If not for them will be able & a
0 comments:
Post a Comment