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Everything you own is more than just another thing that one day you will lose.

There is no way that I can live peacefully and safely for more than 24 hours. There is no way
I can enclose Paturnie in a drawer and throw away the key. Especially if you then become reality.
I became obsessed with his ex. There is no way to change the tables, the more I think no more obligation to someone else that makes you only leave space to my insecurity and low strength of my relationship with Him
And the more I try to put everything aside, the more I discover that he has never been fully honest with me. The more I try themselves that are just my paranoia, more join the pieces and find that, instead, is the truth. How do you regain confidence in a person who loves it when you find that it is not the same person who believed us? How do you believe in a relationship that I'm dragging unnecessarily?
And my tears in front of him, instead of reassuring me and hold me, tells me that I probably should finish it here, if I do not trust that it is useless to stay together, we might as well leave now rather than in a year. Probably, for him, the easiest thing to do. For me the hardest.
Again we have an opposite point of view.
And I'm still at a point without knowing which side is really Christina, nor which way is better go.
Which is the lesser evil? What is the right thing to do?
Being able to separate head and heart would be wonderful. I wonder if I would ever be able, alas.

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Absent Absent XIX XX

And as I walk, I see the looming long road ahead of me. Needless to say, do not even seem to have an end. If anyone should ever dare to write a definition of the horizon, I think I should keep in mind what I have right before my eyes now. But perhaps not enough. We must have trod a thousand times more, on all occasions. With the sudden snow in March. The heat stifling even at six in the evening. The rain with the sun in all seasons. The dust of April and the smell of flowering shrubs. As I did, every day of my life. I mention how much I love this place, and will continue to repeat it. Winter is coming. E 'already autumn. As the pungent air of eight in the evening, when it is already dark, as an axiom. As the cold returns under the skin, he returns into me by osmosis. Perhaps there has always been, because mine is a safe haven, however, in the end. But I can not help but think about it. Of forgetting. In every smile, every motor, every song and every cigarette. It happens to me for some winter and now, after all, is a feeling that I like it. In the dim light of lanterns high above me, but too small to get to that blue hole, not even black, which seems to be the sky. In my sandwich for dinner in a street not far from home with the car headlights that sweep into my picture. Shop signs in daylight, perhaps for a customer wandering. On my return in the evening on a bike that creaking with every inch that I leave behind. He is everywhere in winter, but at the same time, only to myself. Maybe you do not have yet spoken. You, who in reality, it's like you were here with me. Right here by my side. From the part where I have a cigarette between his fingers. And 'as if you were talking to you. Although physically not there. But I still talk to you, in my head. It 's like your presence was constant. And paradoxically, it had always been. I know that every word I hear, and I would tell my whole life. You speak definitely walking, or lying on the floor of a tavern. I will continue to tread this path with you, making your hands back into his jacket for the cold . Walk all the ways that exist and thank you for being there (in my mind, in a map?). Graffitatti climb over the walls to see what is behind you. What's inside of me. An abandoned factory, a historic ruin. Perhaps only a yard of uncut grass and grass pitches. We provide all the things I'm most jealous. I am confident. I would go Southern Hemisphere here. Where everything is reversed, the spirits of the seasons. As of now. I'm not afraid to travel the world. I'm not afraid anymore ... I know you're listening to.

the "you", maybe he'll understand.