I think I'm worried about the determinism that governs my life. The human being likes to think freely, to be convinced that it acts according to what he wants and what he thinks. Nothing could be further from reality, and we begin to be influenced in the same time the alarm sounds old, one morning, thinking about change.
I've spent many years of my life talking little, and even entire mornings remain silent. In that regard, things have not changed much. At first it was taken to the extreme shyness, a horrible fear to let me see. And now? Yes, there is still that, the seed is inevitable that any one set of events have been incorporated within me, however, we must recognize the important efforts made. Today, my words should be parsimonious, I love thinking, my personality. Nothing to fear or wish to hide. I believe in discretion, the value of silence and well-written texts. But it is likely that my beliefs are nothing more than a how to hide my weaknesses.
Of all the people you meet in the here and now, the people that has more to do, and I dare not mention the large and fully useless groups of friends, what percentage of "want to hear? That should be the basis of my problem. I venture to say that everything is the fruit of a habit, a routine that has led me to settle down to life. I spend hours and hours surrounded by shadows that speak, interrupt, never remember anything and never think that something that happens outside of their lives can be good fun or exciting. In this way, all your smiles, nerves and intrigue to events "different" to events beyond their normal idle, are absurd, in charge of making you remember it.
So you have to save the tales and stories for those special occasions when someone emerges, finally, a question. In the day to day operations are unnecessary, opinions have no validity. No matter if what you say is interesting, boring or meaningless. Account only noise and whispers, that there is life, so you can rest assured that this means that all is well.
Since very few people are interested in stories, only now I can speak softly and slurred.
So, I'm just so my routine makes me. I get scared if I think, with a powerful charge of predetermined unconscious, I will follow suit overheated and smelly that have gone before the people who make my environment. I am terrified that all of them, to a greater or lesser extent, have formed a personality which then ceases to be mine. And when I talk about how I am not able to recognize.
Because of this, perhaps, After having seen so many times that the rain always comes after the clouds, to spend the rest of my life surprised to witness that they are passing by and just leave a gray or, perhaps, give way to sunlight No I appreciate the touch of these rays, as I am too busy to be surprised and wonder: "because of what ?
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