Why 'must always be all complicated? Sara 'the simplicity' scares us to death, we are so 'accustomed to fear, distrust, and play games with roles that are always changing, that when we face something simple we tend to run away in fear? Of course, I'm the first to support the game and some complications (which very often there is only in our minds) put a little 'salt to life, but what happens if you jump down' by train and for once let's just be spontaneous? But if we decide to be spontaneous, who will guarantee that the others are really not just a game or even more 'sophisticated that we have created and from which we can not' exit. E 'then we all have skeletons in the closet that we do not want to admit, then why' they should not have the other?
The reality, 'reality' is that you can 'never be completely honest, there will always be things left unsaid, things are not told. Maybe if riunissimo the minds of friends and family all together succeeded in creating a single person with whom we have always been honest, we know, who knows everything about us, but that 's impossible. Then when you are 'really honest, when we really say anything without violating our intimacy and secret?
Blog Last night we talked about, especially if you can 'be honest by publishing something that could potentially read all and if when we write, we write for ourselves or our words explicitly addressed to someone. Well, I certainly know 'cause I started a blog. First of all I've ever written (I'm testing the many diaries and the like in my room), I find the writing activity 'rather relaxing, and then write pulse, when I have something to reason or think I put myself in front of the keyboard and write a project (and the result can be seen twisted ...). Second, the idea and 'coming to the "French" (and I do not know why'!) In a time when I was open to any 'just to distract me. Third, it was essential for me the need for a public outburst, though now with a cool head, re-reading what I wrote, I do not see this outburst. Of course, in some cases there was a lot of anger, but the truth 'of the outburst and' always been in me, and 'was filtered through words and by instinct, and he and' preserved and also dissolved. First, very often, there 'desire to share thoughts with friends and even distant events, so for something, and' true, 'how to write or say something to a friend (or stranger), and for me, who knows me well knows that there are a great parlatrice ... I'm pretty short and tight, but I can tell a lot better and follow my thoughts as I write. But mostly, 'I have to admit that it is not' purely fact sharing, and 'much more' easy to write and talk about things when you are 'on their own, without the look of the listener, and perhaps' more' sincere, perhaps the filters go down ... even if they do not disappear. So I'd say I write more 'than anything else to me, in the process of continuous self-analysis that has so far yielded very good results. And maybe so 'who knows me even slightly, you may' know a little something extra ', instead of relying on false judgments of people. And
and 'This is another thing I want to talk. Today I reread old things, especially re-reading speech on the views that people have always had on me and to my amazement I saw that never changed so 'much. But the thing that made me more 'smile and' think that those views were not shared, not as I felt my time does not feel and I share now. There 's always been the person who exchanged my smile in the midst of the people as a symptom of a fundamentally happy and cheerful person, but very often and when 'the result of social education for which the hidden and sometimes' necessary. There 's always been those who saw me as the doll, sweet and polite, to be kept as an ornament (this' beautiful ...), but the most' fun 'that there' s always been those who have seen and heard I like the str ... exploitative (especially boys) who tramples on the feelings of all to his liking. I say this is 'the most' beautiful 'cause imagine how it would have been much more' lively and fun and easy my life if it were really well '... Wow sometimes I'd really be. However, I always hope that a person to read what 'can form an opinion that I write a little' more 'close to reality', though perhaps the reality 'does not exist ...
conclude with a poem by Guido Gozzi and' was a little 'me in adolescence and a line from an old story that surprised me reread.
... I do not like the roses that I took. I do not like the roses that could be and were not.
My heart was now the only sound in the room, so I think that he too had noticed it.
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