Me by My stories are the result of my FANTASY , do not refer to real events.
Any marine biotoxins to things, people or anything else is purely RAND .
Blue
hatred, love, sadness, joy, & rsquo , abandonment, anger, envy, jealousy, revenge.
This is my world ... This ... is my story ... Silence ...
Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome me, applauditemi or if you prefer, hate, insultatemi, you disgust me ... So I do not care ...
now m not 'care about anything ... Nothing ... Nothing ... Nothing ... Nothing ... Nothing ...
-What a beautiful baby! How old is he?-Ha 5 years!-Really? Sta becoming a little man - No, It is still small .- Yes, but between a po'diventerà a beautiful boy.'ll see lady!-I hope so .-
Do not worry with that little face and those pretty blue eyes ... ..
This is the typical phrase I've heard from people I met on the street.
I would often walk with my mother. She was a woman b ellissima He had long hair, gold and his eyes reflected the sky, that night, the one embroidered with stars whenever his eyes rested on some daylight in the charity ...
you like this description true? ... Too bad that my mother was not so ... She was a woman ... Normal.
She was a secretary, but after I was born she stopped working.
smiled often and everyone saw it as a cheerful woman, cheerful, optimistic ...
The truth is that she was pretending. His smiles were the lights that hide the shadows in his heart. His joy was her sister, which replaced the sadness. She suffered, she suffered much, but it gave him to see. Only I knew it, I only saw him ... But all this must remain a secret, locked in my heart and in my mind and I would not have ever talked to anyone ... I'll stay silent as a priest after confession.
His physical description is not important ... Why appearance is only a mask and I hate the mask makes me sad ... ...
My father was in some ways similar to my mother. He was smiling, friendly, a great father ... all shit ... He acted that way just to please my mother and keep her satisfied ... "keep her quiet? What does it mean?" If you are wondering, The answer is simple. My father loved my mother ... She preferred to spend time with another woman ... Maybe my mother did not like soddisfala wanted ?!?... wonder ... On my father is no more to say ... I have already Enough said ...
And who am I? ... Some people define me a saint, a devil ... Some people believe that they are both and call me "man."
people judge others because unable to judge themselves ... It 's very sad ... I've been judged many times, but none of them managed to really understand my feelings ... As long as he has ...
My heart is ; been hurt so many times now that I no longer feel anything ... The first received stab wounds causing pain, then ... But,, I did not feel anything ... Even if my heart was bleeding, even if the blood flowed, I ... I was impassive & hellip ;
my victims ... Poor Poor my victims ... They saw the red ...
Instead of blue .
End ...
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