Four - Honor Thy Father
Within the office with the terror of seeing flowers on the desks of colleagues, I could make rash envy and anger, or maybe not, maybe I able.
Maybe I could ask for once the anger towards something that is alien to me.
The fact is that I know that I'm not a stupid flower in February day that may change things: it is the presence of flowers that makes a difference, because their absence.
not wishes. Ne `
flowers.
Ne `good works.
Honorable mention to the man who slept beside me for the omission.
Why is strangely easy to see that is more than what is lacking is that there is: close your hand on your life and not feel the compact surface, not known thee joints, stumbling only in the gaps to be filled and are those who feel.
I often wonder if I have to wonder too, if the problem lies in my not being able to appreciate the things we already have: it would take my mom threatened me to give my man the smiles of children in the Third World, to tell me what are a lucky girl, that some girls do not ever fucking tell me that the engaged and not throw anything away, as the pig.
But mama, and then there's no way for the festivities, we light candles on a stick between remorse and a question and I recommend that the wax coli neatly between assumptions and regrets: happy birthday to you, good S. Valentino to those who deserve it or who enjoy it but if not meritandoselo. I
no.
In the sense that I do not I enjoy, but perhaps not I deserve it.
In the first case it's all thanks to me, I can be proud of: they are very good nell'accorgermi of the nice things only when they are no more, ruining any time thinking about when it will end or what is lacking or what could have been if, crease in the moments most perfect and well-ironed, perhaps a perverse taste for melodrama, maybe I have done has ruined the classic.
The funny thing is that I am well aware when this happens, but I can not stop it, like if you had those nightmares where you would like and you do not scream out his voice. Regarding
recognition of my merits, or rather the inability to, I must admit that it was carefully and thoroughly trained to do so.
A round of applause to the gentleman that I have the honor and I am honored to be a daughter, sir, perhaps a standing ovation, because `he must be a difficult task and the exhausting and painstaking undertaking that it made me, her only child female as well as `daughter, an insecure young woman perfectly and wonderfully compulsive tendencies to depression and delicious.
Ladies and gentlemen, here is the model Sara.
Well, So, I know not to be a model of haute couture, but a pret a porter, that not even the merit of be so original and out of the norm you may recognize me.
dad has done his best to make me come up `but` very disturbed, they shall be recognized. Eight
less in greek? And that not why? How
not reaching the shelf? Try to get on your knees!
Want to go to dance? Are you kidding: you're agile, but do not have the physical. Children
hit you? Okay, but what did you do to children?
you do the science? No, you're good, but the math is not for you.
I can still hear his voice in his head, a worried tone, the will to pull iron on the good 'is daughter. The lessons of
almost right. Almost just as a daughter, almost good at school, almost as happy as a child, almost as an early teenager. Almost loved. My
imprinting is one of almost.
And it is this that I have today, almost a love.
My dad always played with me, therefore I always lost. When
teach you to lose as a child, how do you recognize the victory?
0 comments:
Post a Comment