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need to write ... in this new version of what I start to be (which is nothing more than the old version of myself, but remastered) I found myself face to face with emotional and sentimental, I can not help that is what I am.

need to say, I have to. I've never stopped loving you, or a minute or a second or a moment I stopped loving you with every inch of me, with all the force of the fucking world, with all my condemned soul ...

Is it worth all this mean?

... "Of course it's worth
- life will be worth a gamble
idea that may be false? -clear
worth ... "

tells me Don Nica cute ear.

In this beautiful and painful delirium of love from afar I've learned to understand you, I've learned to accept I may have made mistakes and am learning to bancármelas, banks the consequences of what I destroyed myself, I'm gritting his teeth and looking forward, I'm hitting me in the hands for not writing any email that can interfere with your decision, I'm biting my lip to keep from going to the apartment's window and yell that I love you to rip your throat, to be without a voice ... dying to call and hang up only to hear you say "Hello?" well, as nice as you say, but it is wrong.

But ... I can not help but love you, I can not miss you, I can not dream with you, asleep or awake, I can not help calling you in silence with all senses and at the same time, I can not help wanting you I can not help wait, I can not help it, I can not write all this in my blog, even at the risk of no longer visit and not read it ever.

temperance I have needed to do what I should not. I have the ovaries
necessary for banking where I belong.
But mostly, I have this heart belongs to you.
"and there is a bit of soul in the middle of this hell that question for you" (that piece of soul has a name)

I love you, no matter anything, that I was not going to take ever.

"You are what you love, Fhayruz -

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I LOVE YOU THE IDEA IS THAT ... FINDING OUT WHERE

I take that I'm still mad thanks to whistle-mariguanérico therapeutic self-prescribe and leave me in the deep and delve into a subject to which I referred in the last post ... "I concluded that I am beautiful because I have only wanted to be, just because I have wanted to feel that way "...

Beauty is something very, very subjective in the early s. Women XX "ideal" average five feet and weighed about sixty-three kilos (with my five feet four and my fifty-seven kilos, proportionately speaking, I, if I lived at the beginning of last century would be perfect ... modesty aside) is more even, if we remember the African tribes and some of the rituals performed to beautify and royalties as "beauty" we have an exaggerated example of what I say.

The concept of beauty that we have today, slender, not muscular, athletic self, silky hair, zero fat, glowing skin, less than thirty, eternally young, with all the time ahead, is a prototype that has been thrust force and Vaseline in our subconscious for years on media, advertising and marketeo, beauty, today is not just another way to sell, sell, sell, sell image, sell the prototype, make that mine does not look anything like the model buy the mineral water business, the drink, that pack of cigarettes, the beer, you want that rag, you look like her, so have taught, they have learned.

In summary, discuss fees eternal beauty is so vague and useless as arguing about religion, politics or football ... I remembered a movie I loved as a kid "The Gods Must Be Crazy" that of an African tribe that includes a bottle of coca-cola falls from an airplane and is the pure bitch, that. In that movie there is a scene where a gringo is undressed and stares at the black and mine feels haunted by half this crazy psychopath and clear, the black looks very fixed and rare, but that is horrible and strange.

The beauty does not exist, is a concept, an idea, therefore is not absolute, on the contrary, as I said is something wholly subjective, the prototype of beauty in ancient Greece century AC II (Venus de Milo) is quite different from the baroque beauty prototype of the Middle Ages and the s. XXI, however, the ancient Greeks, the baroque, medieval people and the current are virtually identical be several in a couple of inches and we live longer, but physically we are almost the same, identical but has varied is the concept of beauty, the prototype.

Well ... does it matter so much beauty in reality? I recognize vain and sometimes pretentious, I think I heard half of my life and has been raised with that "tomorrow we start a diet, Carlita" "Enter the wadding, Carlita", "take off some embellishment, please Carlita", "You're getting fat again, Carlita" and the truth is that I do not know if I want both, that's when you realize that they are learned things that not necessarily true, which is not necessarily all, one sees how it feels.
words, does it matter so much beauty? Perhaps if I ever pass a car and into the pit of the face and the wea I stay forever shattered as plasticine would still perhaps is not the same person I am today? When one realizes that starts to love and be beautiful, but for other things. I'm cute just because I have wanted to be.

know that all this may sound superficial, but damn! Damn! I have boycotted the life worrying about such things, and when I say I do not mean trying to make a desperate figure of speech, I mean in its most literal sense, I had to hit me the worst thumping of my life to realize this I have been the most foolish of the world and I had to stick cachuchazo worst of my life to realize this. I'm pretty

only because I have wanted to be. I end with this phrase that I really loved.

"You're what you love, Fhayruz -

Discovering