Day 1
It is with great difficulty that I write these first words. They trot in my head for a few days already. The frustration is immense but the desire to tame my mind is more. Words ... these devices with which you decorate the empty space in your paper. Well arranged, they form a nice literature that one never tires of travel. The beating and banging your language, which gradually looking to play aloud the litany that you hear only compliments your catatonia a voluptuous sensation of imprisonment and freedom.
And soon you think you understand what I feel.
And you will understand. More. Whether the answers are here or a few pages later. Discomfort or nausea, unpleasant feeling that you dare not speak. Or persons who did not experience these monsters of insensitivity to your eyes
Neither those who feel it. First, because this discomfort leads to an inability to empathize, an acute selfishness, an intense withdrawal makes you feel misunderstood and inconsolable.
But mostly because people around us and feel our nerves, we are reluctant because they project an irresistible image that we dare not see us.
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