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... A girl ... Peter Pan Syndrome

... Ella es una chica peculiar...

...Camina a son de blues

...Cuando llora , llora lágrimas dulces de colores

... Y lleva siempre zapatillas sin cordones

... Their clothes are clothes that inherits
... Give details
handmade Christmas and birthday

... Her laugh is contagious quiet yet

... Its clear that tan skin aroma

7 Da ... kisses for each lunar

... Y 9 kisses for every drop of sweat

... When receiving a compliment

.. changes color as it governs the blush ... and only

charleston dance

... Drink strawberry shakes and cherry gelatin dinner

... And at the Inn of the Prancing Pony at midnight making their beer

... In the summer sends messages in a bottle ..

. Tell stories

subtly decorated ... and expressive faces accompanied

... In his vocabulary there is no goodbye She


...
dreams ....... 7 hours and 30 minutes a day awake.

while asleep hum La Vie en Rose Edith Piaf

and clear that heat at night do not want to stop hugging her. I have

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among 15 and 20 years younger and rule a world where tastes like licorice spinach and mashed potatoes was a bowl of liquid chocolate, where the baby teeth are falling and do not mind going dull, and sugar was our most dangerous drug, where you will not bothered a pimple on the face or were afraid to get pregnant.

I want to be an astronaut and explore the moon to see her every day and talk to the fairy that she rocks every day, fly like a bird with feet on the ground and raised arms, play the role without being criticized or ask without fear of me noted.

obligations as I have to worry about what to paint on the white walls of my home or ride lego castles on the ground or sand castles in the sand ... and play racing on skates or bicycles with my best friend that never lies invisible tell stories but inconsistent.

I have a thousand professions such as police or thief, Indian or cowboy, as a hairdresser or cook, as an assassin or secret agent, dancer or rhythmic gymnast, to be a doctor or a housewife, or model with my beautiful barrigota well be everything and all at once, just because it gives me to do.

rubber I want to be falling down stairs or on the grass, blood and show me it, worship and have adventures scars invented and exaggerated.

I want to tell me bad stories, bad stories of terror, for my eyes to look expectantly to the narrator in horror and any noise yell in unison.

I want to kiss frogs in hope or think that Bella and Sleeping Beauty was only sleeping, and that White was superhero like me because Witches do not exist in our lives. I

that at Christmas The Three Kings are characters we admire and that surprised me in my tree wrap gifts early for summer and before the beach watching the cartoons and laugh because they laugh because they think you have to laugh like clowns, laughing for no reason. I

worth more than the exchange of letters or toys that any ticket and see the balloons fly is the greatest illusion because a thousand that never see the pile.

I want Peter Pan is real and live in "Neverland."

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Lost My shelter

My shelter, I have many, many places where I feel safe, really safe, not that the courage up and go with my head high, and security that gives you the protection of another, is a quiet and safe to breathe deeply without fear of any unusual incident that was mild. This shelter is my room is a small rectangular spot illuminated by the rare golden sun with red flashing the small window allows to pass, the red writing that is more beautiful than seen, because as I read an account of a anyone like me ... \u0026lt;\u0026lt;The words are always better than the colors, because when someone types in red, you imagine the best red ever seen. Because if someone paints something red, not red sublime and hurt you expect it will be a red cup of coffee, but not a drop of blood red, and if a drop of blood red, blood is never black and thick enough. This happens, for sure, because good red drops of blood are black.>> For this once, I wrote only "Green".

My shelter seemingly peaceful, actually it is a vital place, ruled by the bed of the magic powder is a daily tour started at different times with sad tales of heartbreak, death, disappointment. Written postcards never sent or received never answered letters, pictures from 0 to 100 years full of smiles and curious gaps broken. He survives a world of fantasy that began with "Once upon a time ...", a world of witches hanging from the wall gossip, fairy sweetened that mediate between them, lucky elephants toasted by the dull glow of the suns without glare, a darker location, where warriors fight to protect the magic there formed.

The protagonists of this fantasy world that only I know that in my shelter living are those Elves, who do not see, but I know they are, those who take the sun every morning in my window while eating the jelly beans that steal the my sister's room, and at night roost in our ears to tell stories, action times or terror rebel without meaning or outcome, stories that we call dreams, those "dreams" that sometimes we stand relaxed and others too tense Freud both those related to sex. They are the ones that we pricked to draw blood, but as though they are wicked good, we smeared a liquid that makes chopping and devilish, but without being able to cure arrascar. They are the ones that shut off the alarm clock that we missed not having heard the evening rise. Or those who provide loving clumsiness a little salt to unscrew the cap. But his favorite hobby is that we all played as children, "the hiding", but in this case the hiding of stuff ... laughing and concealing its diminutive size while we desperately seek, but I repeat, as they are of good heart, while the happy place again and forgetting to ask how we find there have arrived.

Elves are those who cry when they see your tears spilling down her cheeks, comfort you in their own way, for example, inviting Mr Grillo come not to sing \u0026lt;\u0026lt;cri,cri,cri>> and nobody says he repeats. It is they who know all your secrets and give you energy to fight, they are, that despite the wicked are virtuous, so is my shelter because although restless and fun, is both a pure and peaceful.

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Dripping Wet ... is the dyed black hair walking slowly by water and not so tanned body shows its imperfections in the mirror, you look beautiful, feel beautiful, but to no avail, neither self-disgusted same, at least not quite yet decide to start the ritual of camouflage every day, every night ...

tweeze your eyebrows without getting the perfect curve, it smears of moisturizer nivea and thinks the world should give that smell so smooth, so neat, so ... simple. Massage all your skin with circular movements, slowly, slowly, very gently as if it were porcelain, enjoy the feeling of freshness Imagine that someone is petting and appreciating every inch shell without any, as it is.

paints his nails dark red, because once read that appeared safe, dark red nails on your feet and hands, which will soon flake without remedy, without avoidance because of its latent concern that not enough time to touch per- fec-to., is resigned, apparently natural about something that frustrates sovereign without trauma, failure to ensure that everything is as desired, therefore, is continually im-perfect, curses his concern and tried usual aplomb, that from the 3 years we have been committing blunders, so it has one eye smaller than the another, because, then, is a prey of a table.
He looks in the mirror again, looking at the size of his dark eyes, large, perhaps jumping ... small hated when he said that his eyes were huge, normal, she was so thin ... Look closely and there it is, the asymmetry in size between eyes signed by a small scar on his right eyelid, asymmetry is not noticeable to others, but whether to believe it then that everyone is aware of his right eye LITTLE BIG and his left eye, ridiculed by the frogs and snakes of languages. Notes

her breasts, touching them gently and make sure that nothing out of the ordinary could disturb its mild hypochondria ever made mourn panic. Think you do not want to get old, afraid of cosmetic surgery. Sometimes his back hurts, it feels like a sporadic threat that dares to suggest that fade away, you can not stand on its own, which have to rely on some poor clinical assistant, hard work and badly paid. Think, \u0026lt;\u0026lt;quizá "suicide"> asked me>.

Touch his belly, not pregnant, \u0026lt;\u0026lt;quizá be estéril>>, is always just a habit, he likes the feel of it, smooth but not so strong strokes with the palm of your hand around the crescent is navel. Thinks it's lack of affection.

He looks back to the mirror, smile without smiling, watch your teeth, has a pretty mouth, decided to wash them for the umpteenth time in the afternoon. Think \u0026lt;\u0026lt;what would otherwise have been braces?, "Take dentures?, How much money you lost>>. Brush
his still wet hair dyed black, carefully brush, but hating each hair, though long and healthy enough, he is annoyed. ...\u0026lt;\u0026lt;¿ Think if I put an every day as the black wig?>>

again be cursed for being so stupid sometimes.

Make up your face to look more or less pretty, her lips red and any imperfections always hidden, filled with fleeting positivity to meet the gaze of outsiders, encouraged their safety rising above his heels that remind you of Audrey Hepburn, though she has no nothing to do with the muse of gays, gay muse because a friend of a bar owner said he was a homosexual because he had too many pictures of Audrey Hepburn hanging on the wall, he thought that if he was gay, \u0026lt;\u0026lt; , why not opt for Gary Grant?>> and then remember a picture of Julio Romero de Torres in another bar and think that maybe the owner was in Cordoba. Collect the hair because they say that this looks like the painter's models.

2

Take your drink with prying eyes but always the same people who have no interest and will most desperate, equally or more superficial than her. Lights a cigarette, in the classic film that smoking is associated with glamorous and attractive, in the anime and manga, overflowing sensuality, however, in real life, it is disgusting, he thinks, but smoke. Survive

overnight between alcohol, the smell of alcohol, snuff, snuff smell, and hear music that is not banal conversations sprinkled with strong perfumes, think if the protagonist of "The Perfume" would kill her, because she would kill any mortal who was present. All this from emotional vampires and potential victims, we are transparent intentions exist there. Think «No I will be one of your víctimas>>, appears safe and comfortable thanks to its red nails and heels descacarilladas Audrey Hepburn, or maybe because it is on the fourth cup, but hate that world. As more sips ethyl decides to give more in their place feels, is his potion to join in that game so many arcades provoked. Remember the scene of the loss of virginity of one of the leading "The truth game." It feels a fairy is lost because all, but does nothing. Think that long ago that nobody wants, or at least let you know that he loves. Think of the goodnight kiss that once gave his parents and can not understand why growth implies maturity and maturity, there is lack of need requirements.

studied each and every one of the individuals who were present tonight are all bloodsuckers, hates the situation, however, is still there. Sixth bowl. Maintains a pleasant conversation with a girl who knows what she wants and she knows what he wants. Think \u0026lt;\u0026lt;As much degrees of alcohol do you insist on giving me, I will not give what you want, no bartering, I'm playing the vampire, vampire like you>>. He smiles mischievously.

need the shelter of arms found not sincere at the time. 3



Go home, look in the mirror, look at her and not so exquisite costume, hating herself, she takes a shower of cold water, the smell is repugnant thirsty night of emotion, lies in his solitary bed, white sheets and decide to wait for the man from his neighbor's house watching him every night, who does not know that she knows, he knows it with the naked eye, give him as a favor today, bed without clothes, you know who does more than look, in need of affection, decides to masturbate to the beat. ...\u0026lt;\u0026lt; Moaned think my arms I will tender and sincere ...>>.

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Fairy Motel Insomnia in

A mosquito round the room impersonal, including with the small flight with a deafening sound soft but not let the girl sleep lying on a thin and flimsy mattress springs gone through very, very used.

The hum of the insect reaches almost to stop at certain moments these two lovers featuring animal instinct, selfishness and pleasure, lust and domination, a real exchange of interests ...

She sits up, showing her lush figure to get rid the sheets. Lights a cigarette and started picking up dirty ashtray, and a balcony overlooking the neglected, naked, showing off in light of the moon, apparently unconcerned, thinking without taking a decision, no sincere interest in watching the movement of the street at that hour of the morning. A couple of drunks beggars seeking shelter ... a couple getting hand into the corner, she pretends to hardness, but its fluid screams yes!, Without compassion, a group of colleagues boasting creative stories and irrelevant to the end of the day in the life A crestfallen boy smoking pot slowly and concentrate on the tile floor. Anyway ... she, there, naked, carefree and unnoticed in the eyes of others, a spectrum of the night, inside wanted to disappear, contradictory to that display the mark in his veins, betrayed ...

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What is on my mind?

You'll probably never read this.
i still feel like we have some kind of weird non-verbal communification. Don't really know how else to describe it except I feel like you are always still with me.
Today someone said to think about something you want to resolve and you were the first thing that came into my mind
she then said the first thing that comes into your mind is what you should concentrate on
sometimes i wish i would be able to wake up in the morning and not think about you, but that would mean i am forgetting you, which i don't want to do
i can't do it
so then what is the part of you i need to resolve?
good question.
I guess that's what i'm trying to figure out.
what is there to resolve.