It will be good weather in the evening, outside.
December is also wearing out, a December of any year, it seems bad to say, but that's how it is: everything passes, everything flows.
The days chase each other, the nights go by without dreams or even if I have some I don't keep the memory of them, I think it was an unconscious choice of my brain, a vain attempt to turn off certain memories.
For this I thank Time, he helped me to sleep, he closed the door to the me left behind, the one who still lives many miles from here, on top of a mountain, the naive one who believes in fairy tales.
Who am I today? I don't know. I'm not old enough to consider myself wise, and I still feel too old to do what I do. I got lost somewhere, a few doors ago, when I was opening them while hoping for the famous 'door'.
I gave in to other people's choices because there was nothing I could do about it, I watched people leave and learned not to say 'stay, please', I only had breath for a 'go' and didn't even say the fateful 'goodbye', no return was planned.
Those who did return never found me again. Yet I was exactly where they had left me! It didn't make sense to reopen closed doors, to relive something that had been badly interrupted... maybe I did it out of dignity or maybe because I can't stand to think that people realized how valuable I was only afterwards.
I always know what value to place on those with me... I just end up being taken for granted. I accept that. It's not me that's wrong, I have too big a heart and can't recognize people's malice. For this and so many other reasons, I have no interest in editing myself or restructuring my soul, downsizing the rooms of my heart: I remain the clown that I am, the crazy that I am, the love that I am, likes that I am. And a few others.
'It's going to be nice weather in the evening'
I smile.
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