E 'this is the feeling I have, at times.
When I listen to music and when I watch a movie, an anime that remind me
when I was little.
But perhaps just the feeling or the feeling - I should say, is the regret of not having lost time. Have lived in the wrong way - not having lived at all - those years.
The time lost resulting from this defect and the regret is for the wrong done to me both of those years is to me of today. For the first I can not do anything now, I guess.
For today I'll try, at least so it seems to me, but also a sense of not arriving at the head of anything with me: oscillating between nostalgia and regret for the past and a sense of failure - someone might call castration, I suppose - in order to solve the otherwise today, find a way that is my skin.
Search to find and fail to try is to put it in a way that mitigates or even more exotic conceal the sadness of the truth it reveals, an energy-consuming activity. So back, short of energy and imagination, to revisit (morbidly?) That same past that had led me to look elsewhere.
seems a dead end or perhaps one that closes on itself: writing allows me to recover some energy. Recharge.
When I listen to music and when I watch a movie, an anime that remind me
when I was little.
But perhaps just the feeling or the feeling - I should say, is the regret of not having lost time. Have lived in the wrong way - not having lived at all - those years.
The time lost resulting from this defect and the regret is for the wrong done to me both of those years is to me of today. For the first I can not do anything now, I guess.
For today I'll try, at least so it seems to me, but also a sense of not arriving at the head of anything with me: oscillating between nostalgia and regret for the past and a sense of failure - someone might call castration, I suppose - in order to solve the otherwise today, find a way that is my skin.
Search to find and fail to try is to put it in a way that mitigates or even more exotic conceal the sadness of the truth it reveals, an energy-consuming activity. So back, short of energy and imagination, to revisit (morbidly?) That same past that had led me to look elsewhere.
seems a dead end or perhaps one that closes on itself: writing allows me to recover some energy. Recharge.
And start trying ....