Datos personales

Mi foto
Alcalá de Henares, Madrid, Spain
Y sin embargo, nunca he encontrado lo que escribo en lo que amo.

lunes, 23 de abril de 2012

Memories

How can be people so sure? I mean, sure of being people. In fact, they cannot be sure. I think I probably get the truth in the precise moment of my death. I have always heard that all your life, your memories, goes through your mind when you are lying on the floor. I have really dreamt about it, definitley, that's my aim, my target, my fate. What will I feel when that happen to me? What memories, what sounds, what views will it cross through my head?
I remember my grandmother, and her skin, perfectly, like paper. And the last words she said before she died harmoniously in her hospital bed. She said: "Boy, when I finally get out this little piece of hell, you and me are going to travel around the world. And if we end that road, we will travel again, because we can go around it all the times we want to, as if there had no time, as if there had no time...¨. She would be the first one who appear in my mind. After that, the first time I touched the snow. It felt like, quite weird, a strange feeling, I was afraid, it was cold, it was new.
I remember the first time I fell in love, that word, which is written with blood in my wrist, and that feeling then, has been never rised again.
I would remember one summer night. Just me, alone, in the dark, seeing stars, whose lights were brighting my horizons, wherever they were on my mind. And then I stood up, as if I felt I would have seen everything I could see in life. As if there wasn't any chance to live just another day, as if I had lost the will to stay alive.
But when I reached the peace, the truth, the hell, I couldn't say anything but "thank you" to the world, for let me living in it, for let me knowing it, and for have tried to, though it was only for a little second on my small stupid life, convince me of being a real person.

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