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I've been writing a message, to tell you that I love you ...
but then I thought, "how stupid I am ... I always say, it sounds boring" ...
and I gave up. They spend hours and when I picked up the phone to send a message I found there, "I love you" to you. He seemed waiting for me, so I thought: "But it's true ... I love you, even if you do not tell you

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Dear friend, I write to you (am) to tell you ...

The reasons of the heart are hiding behind the need to feel loved. I'm all shit when they tell us that in life each of us needs the other and that we must learn to be independent. It 's true that only each of us must have its own personality and must have their own space and cultivate your passions and needs to know when to retreat behind the scenes and let your partner in the privacy (as we like this word) it needs, but we were not created to be alone, nor to suffer ... otherwise Eve would never "born" and Adam would continue to carry around the lions! I seem harsh but I am sincere when I say that when a person is with you, if you truly love, I repeat, is-with-you ... because he needs your presence from the moment they turned the joy of be with you in a need to fill the void that is normal to have during your absence. How many times have made me feel a subject for psychoanalysis because I wanted to have a family and tried ... to dissuade me with the idea that I could not be independent and then tried to tie me to someone else (model leech). Now, in hindsight, I opened my eyes and I realized I just made fun of me. The truth was and will always be only two: the first is that I was just a hobby (in the case of feeling zero), the second is black, they were afraid of losing their spaces and then climbed the excuses of an existential type, which put two foot pedals, vincevanoo the pink jersey pima yet to start. And from the time when the world 55% of world population and women, at least not let it make you suffer ...

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are no crumbs which feeds the heart,

but love the eyes see in us.

We have become blind to our emotions.

I hunger for you, your company.

bread is not what I'm trying

feeds of your voice my ears, and your eyes

my view. No matter

touch,

I'd be happy to be able to look back and see you anyway.

All around there is emptiness, that loneliness makes

gloves

While I try to grab me wriggle

not to listen to her continued to paint inside of me as a work of timeless