As I'm walking the streets that I used to walk to school when I was a little girl,
I'm thinking about what I'm missing.
About why I feel so empty.
Every time I have to tell myself it will be OK, and that there will be a day that I will feel everything that all of you have around you.
That I will feel the wind that is blowing where all of you are living.
I will hear the languages, eat the food, sleep in a bed that's not my own.
Every time I have to tell myself we are under the same sky.
Same sun, same moon, same stars.
I'm half way, still the same street, it used to feel like a never ending street.
But now it feel so small and short.
I wish the distance was short. Wish that all of you where living in that street.
So when I was little I could pick you up and you could come to school with me.
Now i'm almost home, I only have to cross one more street.
Same street I'm living for almost 19 years.
Well almost 18 cause,
one year I spent in a place where all of you were too.
One year, that went too fast, that hurts in my heart.
But so glad I did it.
I love you all of you!

A gardener without flowers

My mouth is full of silence that was born since the era that you departed, and the silence is raising to more, much more pain. It is something so powerful that all the things that have nothing to do with it, doesn't mean anything anymore. They were forgotten.
But it so depressively funny the fact that the human being find support in solitude and in the agony of time, that we can stand so much, even when we think there's not much more to stand. Because sometimes eternity touch us, and then we mortals become titans greater than Hercules.
But this is not the way I want to be, this is not the things I want to accept through my whole life. Because it's not good to fell abandoned even if we can stand, and even if we can build lifes and walls against it. Because I want to have you in my life, because you saved my life like Hercules saved Hera. This is what I am trying to scream all along. I do not want a life without you.

Do you know how hard it's been to not give you my hand all these months?
And I don't want to talk about those words we all say that we belong together no matter how many miles are keeping us appart, because that's bullshit. And no games can prove me wrong.

'Cause my love is real, my fears are hard to fight, and loss is solitude as a main dish. And its hard for me to have it, even harder than a beautiful little girl eating soup.

What's only left are tears.
Tears for the angry and the lost control inside of me, but nobody knows.
Tears for not seeing you, not feeling you, of not able to talk to you.
Tears for wishing I could come, and see you again.
I miss you so much,
I need my friend, who can see when something is wrong.
Who only have to look into my eyes, and knows that I need a hug.
I feel so confussed and sad and at this moment I need you.

I need you.

Calm

It makes me calm, while I'm so hurt, confused and sad. It doesn't matter where I am. Sometimes it's in the bus, while the bus stops and goes on, people go in and out.
Sometimes it's when I'm at school, where my classmates scream and yell and I get irritated.
Right now it's in my messy bedroom. Even though I'm in my messy room and the mess drives me insane, it makes me calm.
I let the words come.
I can't even understand it,
but I wish I could.
It makes me feel so close,
and I listen, I almost can sing along...
I wish I knew what the words meant, I wish i spoke your language.
I will know it makes me even more calm than the song, coz that's how the language sounds like, calm.

of you

Everybody falls in love at least once before eighteen. Or at least have once been "gived" to someone and received a heart in exchange. Not me. I am eighteen, fearing it more and more each time I remember it, and I'm only pain and excuses, and solitude bigger than the sun. And it burns much more.
It's silly expressing this thought as in something as real as writting, but the necessity of both doing it and doing it in English lead me to this.
All my friends have been in a situation of kissing in the mouth of someone they liked and they were always wanting to talk about it, or just aswering my childish questions about things I can't talk about. But on the other hand I kissed already the guy my heart was suffering with. But it wasn't good enough, it was bohemic and unreal, was not true. It did happened, but I can't remember most of it. Alcohol had this things. For me, the worst things in my life did happen through it.
But the fact that I haven't fell in love with someone I could express my heart through shacky hands, naive smiles and heart beats without end, that makes me sad. Not because everybody else did, and not because I truly believe this is what I am questing for, but because I only want to know what is it like. If it's beautiful like everybody says it is, if I can have what my parents have, if it is immortal and eternal and unconditional. Maybe I just want it a little bit for me.
I am not sure if I had fell in love or not, by now. In a normal situation I would answer, off course. But talking with myself, there's this huge feeling that a broken heart is not the same as a love failure, so maybe I didn't. But not knowing it means I can't talk about it, and maybe that's what I need by now; to talk about beautiful things and forget you have to grow up without me, that's what's my mind is in all the time when I am awake. And when I dream.