Extremos...

-Estas loca.
-Y así y todo, me gusta estar loca.
Esas palabras siguieron retumbando en mi cabeza aún mucho tiempo después de que fueron pronunciadas.
Pero gracias a ellas, pude ver todo con mayor claridad...
Si, estoy loca; loca para mi época.
Mi época es aquella en la cuál esta mal visto actuar sobriamente o de acuerdo a mi criterio. Dónde esta mal visto pensar.
La época a la que pertenezco se me ha ido, me dejó completamente perdida.
No sé si estoy atrasada o si dónde creo pertenecer sería completamente precoz; pero de lo que sí estoy segura es de que poseo el alma de una anciana encerrada en un joven cascarón.
Cada golpe deja una marca en un alma; y siento que la mía esta más marcada de lo que debería, no porque haya sufrido mucho; es solo que esta cansada, ya ha vivido antes y ahora vive con migo.
El problema es que solo una parte de mi alma es anciana.
El resto es aún muy pequeña; es mi tesoro que jamás crecerá.
Y así me encontraré por siempre entre ambos extremos, sin saber si he crecido o si me he vuelto más joven aún.
Pero no cambiaría mi alma por nada.
Me gusta ser una anciana, aunque no lo aparente.
Me gusta ser una niña, aunque haya crecido ya.
En resumidas cuentas; me gusta estar loca.

Could you please stop asking why?
Some things have no reason;
I'm crazy,, and that's all you need to know.
If I were you; I wouldn't try to discuss with someone as out of her mind as me.

If you win you take the credit, if you lose you take the blame.
And I'm sick of that !

It's hard to believe the way everything changes in just a few seconds, isn't it?

Welcome to the point...

The *p*o*i*n*t* of no return

Have you ever wanted to cry?

But it wasn't the moment or the place.

Even when you knew it was just a silly thing,

That didn't desrve your tears.

You try to convince yourself of not crying;

But somehow you can't help it.

And people around you try to make you feel better,

But they don't.

Because you know that helping you is not their intention,

They just want to know why are you crying.

They don't understand that you don't want to talk about it.

And you keep wiping your tears away in silence...

Have you ever wondered how would be suffering?
Not complaining about little things in life, suffering.
You have never been actually dissapointed;
You have never actually knew what is to be sad;
You just go arround grumbling and complaining with no reason.
Is your life that bad?
Because it doesn't seem to be.
Is your life that terrible?
Because you've lived with everything you wanted at the moment you wanted.
No one denied anything to you.
But, are you happy?
No.
Why?
Because, even when you have everything you want, there are many things you can't just have.
You can't have love if you don't deserve it.
You can't have friendship if you're not worthy of it.
You can't have a soul if you never talk to it.
You can't be happy if you don't want to be happy.