Run

Run away, Run away, Run away.

Sometimes running away is the best option for those who have no other than becoming part of the floor.

Run away gossip, escape of waste and anything that can become addictive.

Get away from anything that could become something to push you off the cliff.

Run away, Run away, Run away.

Refusing a problem is not becoming a coward

You know how far you can go

And with that, not rolling

And do not miss the opportunity to always smile.

No, do not let other people's problems you take the right to smile.

Do not lie, just do not get to hear

Simply run away from everything that does not make you good and for others too.

Run away, Run away, Run away.

Save yourself the madness of others.

Do not listen to anything that could bury you under the heavier sand.

A web of gossip or problems tends to explode someday

So beware, it is best to flee from certain companies.

You never know who might burst your web

Or who can cause you agony ...

In any case, do not construct the web

Be free, protect yourself from the evil alien.

Run away, Run away, Run away

Not worth getting and become a dirty person.

Personas

I like my perfume walk around

For the mind of the people and the mess up.

I like being able to give love

When someone is in pain.

I like lots of color,

And taste,

Heat ...

Heat but only from people

Most of the time, I want the weather be cold

Just so I can feel the heat better of them all,

And his presence and smiles.

They say the freaks have charm

They say the straights too much have no courage ...

Courage to make a big change,

Or a haircut,

Or to admit mistakes,

And have a good laugh like a child

And that way, every day, restoring hope.

There are people of all shapes and ways

There are many beautiful and ugly

There are boring and crazy

And there is also the worst kind:

Who does not live only exists.

Friend

Do not miss having friends. Just miss having people around me, because I like to observe them.
I like to be part of their little lives filled with problems - it helps me to get away a bit of my opinion and we all are always dissatisfied, no matter how serious or silly things with, because this is a human being, an eternal dissatisfied, Always looking for something without knowing what it is. I think that is what drives us and motivates us to change and not remain frozen.
I never had friends and now, looking back, I'm sure. I've always been friends with many people, but being a friend is not the same as having friends. Always heard many people, always gave a lot of advice, always wet with tears and her shoulders choked people with hugs, but never, ever had anything like that back the way I always gave. I can not complain, because people are different from each other and from me, mostly. If I do not quite understand my head, imagine other people ... And maybe that's my fate: being friends with many, but not having any friends.
Since childhood I have always been that kind of person who likes to help and advise people. Not that they did not want me to hear too - always wanted to find someone to give me the importance I give to each of them, but it never happened. And somehow, this has always been therapeutic means to me, after all, who does not feel lighter, more at peace, when you can help someone? Some people do not mind, but I can not see someone suffering and not try to do something to help. Maybe I'm just nosy, or maybe the world needs more people who care about others and do not be all the time focused on their monotonous lives.
I'm terrible at making up stories about people, but wrote numerous books with the stories of others, surely. The fiction that comes out of me is always based on real facts, I never write something totally invented. Can I improve, framing, exaggerate, dramatize, add adjectives strong, but the base is always real. And that's what I like: give life to the lives greatly exaggerated stops. Shoot everyone from coma with words, whether writing, speaking words. I think that's what a friend does, even if not the same in return. I may not have friends, but at least I can say I'm friends with someone. Few have that privilege, most secretly envious friends and fold small pieces to continue each in its proper place. I want more is each one is great in its own way, but for my part, I suppose I can not wait for anybody but i can do for me.
Maybe they are my friends just because they let me be their friend, because few things make me happier than helping someone. And is not that what friends do? They give each other little moments of happiness and personal satisfaction...?

Black hole

She felt joy

But inside, that old feeling of defeat, laugh ...

Laugh of debauchery.

The laughter was like a warning

In what was to come a boycott.

And at times she was really happy

Because things were happening that she always wanted

But when no one was looking

She failed to surface

its true essence:

She owned a sad soul.

Some people do not understand why they can not be happy

Even with all the possible reasons...

But that girl had a hole

That was much deeper and older

Than any moment of happiness just happened.

She did not know how to handle it

She did not know how to expel once that feeling of emptiness.

And then there was, she realized her dream of happily ever after

It would never be possible

For a person like her sad soul

The ideal was to settle for a few moments of happiness

Brief moments, just to feed your heart a little utopian.

Moments illusory, because the reality was even a bale full of absences and spaces...

Train

The train show they will leave. Will start, he is accelerating slowly until a continuous speed. And he continues. And it continues. And it continues. You keep going to the place of destination, but who knows if it will really get us to this place of destiny? And if something happens along the way? And if something happens to the rails of the station, or signaling, or with anything else? And if it catches fire? What if ...?

Anything can happen, but sooner or later we reached our destination, whatever it. May be a person, may be a breakthrough may be the end of a great trajectory. It can be anything, as long as this thing gets. And when it arrives, is the end, there is nothing else, is the purpose of the trip is the end of expectations, the end of plans and ideas. It's the end of a reason to live. But will it really end there? Every time we reach the end, automatically begin a new path for a new order. So there is no real end. It's just a door that closes for an upcoming open.

Who takes the train at the station has an idea of ​​what will happen. Know where the train vai, vai know how, you know that the trip will start slowly and at a certain moment a speed that can even be frightening. Or simply cause adrenaline, but an adrenaline rush that makes you smile for the euphoria it causes. Who takes the train at the station knows all this, but who takes the train and already in motion? Or next season? Who picks up with something halfway, or a quarter of the battle, or more than half of the battle do not know where you stand, do not know where you're getting into, know nothing. Who takes something that already has history only have time to do a brief reconnaissance of the site and hope that everything goes right. Who gets something moving just have to fight to get time to board, not to twist and fall pray to be as expected. Who gets a moving train can only wish that there still is a place. A place that is between people not so experienced, or not so lost, so hopeless or not, or not so old. Who gets a moving train someone wants to share ideas, someone wants to build along with it. But who gets a moving train knows that this rarely happens. Who gets in place already occupied can only shape the customs and rules. Who gets in place already occupied can only hope not to be rejected. Who gets in place already occupied have to prepare for any surprises that are going to happen along the way. Who gets into busy place, have to give thanks to God if you have a place, even if it is tight.

There are people who turn to go right in the middle of a train in motion and already full, but there are people trying to adapt without denying self. These people usually go down next season, but on rare occasions can empty an entire wagon. Can be gained by having confidence and admiration, or can be run by collective or expulsion.

But who knows what will happen on a moving train? Who knows if it's a good idea into a place already occupied, who knows if there is precipitate? No one can know, but to have the answers, you need to come and see what can happen. If it does not work, the next season will always be available to descend. And there you can catch a train or simply close out the season and see what's good.
The end does not exist because it has no end.

In flames

People like me, who have the spirit of revolt within, are always crazy looking for something new, something different, something that puts the soul in ecstasy and heart ablaze.
But these are times of peace. The war is over, and the sparks that turned everything on fire some time ago, were finished, calmed down. All went to their homes to celebrate the end of the war, and I got out, I went out like never before left, after being arrested throughout the war period.
At the time I was arrested, I remember having lighted matches repeatedly, hoping that the little light on my fingers broaden and enlighten the world. To enlighten my world, who long ago walked off and opaque. And it happens that one day, one of the matches has morphed into one person. Leticia, my guardian angel, my friend who never forgot me, even though I've been missing so long. Leticia was the mediator in a peace treaty in the war I fought with myself doing time. Sometimes people are just people. In others, people are the factor that determines everything and nothing, the young and old, defeat and hope. What would we be if we are not connected to others throughout our lives mysterious? This particular connection, set me free so I'm in a mood so radiant that no word invented to describe him the way he is he entirely.
I spent some time in a coma. It had nothing to grab me, I had no hope for comfort, had no light to guide me. I felt nothing and did not want to feel. Do not know what to do and did not know where to go. But those times are past. For my soul revolution is more awake than ever and everything I thought I had just turned into me with everything. These are times of peace, but even in peacetime, small revolutions happen every day, comes subtly, no one feels. And when you realize, when you look in the mirror, you know that will never be the same. When the mind opens, never returns to close. But with that comes consequences, and many other insights that you did not have before. Even in peacetime, every day the revolution remains alive within you. In me she has the energy of a young dreamer, determined and accelerated. For me it's all or nothing, and I hope it's always like that.

The different

Between jewels can be brass.

There may be mud, glass and deception.

But even if all the jewels together are brighter, true and beautiful that brass

It is a fact that he will always be those who will call more attention.

The different lures.

The arouses different feelings - even negative.

The different causes doubts

And confirmations.

The strikes always different somehow.

And cause sudden reactions.

Between jewels and mud

Between the beauty and drama

The different always gets everyone on alert

As a pump.

Nobody knows if it will explode

But if protect before.

But it has a different thing that the pump does not have:

He does not need anyone to push the button

And he does not expect everyone to flee

For no one can see or feel

It changes everything without even explode.

Normalities

I find it funny that these people know the love of their lives in the movies, the mall, the library, on the bus, anywhere where you do not expect interaction with another person, who is just like you or what you are doing. Do not speak in ballad, because nobody ballad finds a soul mate. In ballad nobody wants anything, just the night, just now, very different from finding the love of your life. But it's amazing how in the movies the love of your life is just around the nearest corner, as if there soulmate in the same amount that prostitute dawn.
I'm going to the movies every week, even alone, without any problem. Who sits on my side? Fat girls, weird guys, guys pulling matter the time of the film, but even the record belongs to the elderly. It must be my karma.
There was a time I was coming back from my mother's house and had to endure all get squeezed, tart, super uncomfortable, for more than two hours inside the stinky bus that crosses the Rio-Niterói Bridge. Heat of hell, hell bottling and there I sat next to a guy who looked more like a gorilla than a person. He was all off, he had a huge trunk, huge arms (not learned to distinguish whether it was fat or muscle, but I guess it did not matter much to my discomfort) and annoyingly kept touching me all the time. I looked at the man and he wondered beating his chest like a gorilla in the jungle and my desire was to punch him, push, do something to push him away. But I did nothing, because my hand is small that disappear. And so were more than two hours squeezed.
Anyway, what I mean is that reality is not as beautiful as we imagined. Reality is boring, it's rude, it's smelly, it's a gorilla that swallows all our hope in the world and humans. Reality can destroy any time it should be gentle, relaxing, or simply normal. My reality is mostly comic, ridiculously annoying or boring. But I think real life is like for most people, not just for me.
At least I can still laugh about it after a while, and significantly increasing my list of weird moments. Meanwhile I go about doing my stuff, writing, observing people. Not everything is quite good and not too bad, sometimes it's just a normal middle ground. But most of the time things happen to me as 8 or 80, you'll know why.

Old girl

Today was not about to do anything but read. I woke up and read, just read. I let myself be carried away by those words so far removed from my reality while sipping my coffee.

Lately I have not wanted to take the headphones from his ears. It's so much bullshit when I hear the shot, much complaint, too much importance to petty things or negligible. The headphones save me a lot of rage, a lot of sadness, a lot of outrage ... Thank God I have them.

In rainy weather it is now, nothing better than reading a book, listening to music or watching movies. Anything that leave me away from these people that only know complain about the gray day, and do not know how to enjoy life and not ignore certain things. I was wrong, but I'm getting well. And it's not because someone is for me, my mind, my songs, books and movies. If I was waiting for someone to help me, expect asleep. Even sleep is one more thing that makes me happy.

I like the drama and the wails of Lana, like optimism and adventurous spirit of Martha, I like movies with a history, even if they are clichés. I like the simple and intense taste. It is a contrast that I take pride in my personality, because that's how life is. The simplest things, most often are also the most intense, and I like everything that awakens my soul and my mind. I like to be challenged, to be stimulated, to have contact with the new, and remember the old things of my life. I'm new, but sometimes I write as an old woman. And I do not care. I just wanna love, dancing, reading, sleeping, and watching live. I always live. Sometimes as a girl, in others as an old woman.

Blurry reflections

I have a big family like those people that Grandma had more than 10 children and because of this has many thousands wathever how many uncles and cousins ​​million, but I have four living grandparents. How about that? My paternal grandparents - Rita and Lecy, and my maternal grandparents - Regina and Éldio. All of them with their health problems, but vivinhos well.

In my habit of watching, I realized that some of my mannerisms and characteristics are heritable. My grandmother is Rita craze sit and stare pros feet, just like me; Éldio doting grandfather to complain when you're madly angry at something or someone, just like me, my grandfather Lecy is addicted to music, being able to pass an entire day listening, just like me; doting grandmother Regina to write whatever she thinks is important to remember, even though she never again go read what he wrote, just like me. My quick way to ride Rita comes from my grandmother and my father, but my bruised strong Éldio comes from my grandfather, my stubbornness comes from my mother and my grandfather Éldio. My look is a mix of strange Portuguese, Germans, Indians, Italians, Africans and Spaniards who gave more or less certain (not sure how). My ass has exaggerated my grandmother Regina, my eyebrow failed Éldio comes from my grandfather, my father has a signal between the chest like me, my feet are much like my mother, as well as the broad back, and my nose potato has ancient origins in a part of my family by the father, who starts for me by my grandfather Lecy, even if the potato it is bigger than mine.

Within all of these inherited traits, I wonder if anyone is actually able to be original. I mean, besides being "hereditary", also are largely products of the environment we live in, then, does anyone have any characteristic? We're like a cake batter that was baked in several different molds. Is it?

At the same time that I see so many similarities, can’t escape from my eyes that I can be completely different from my family in many other ways and perhaps for this reason that no one ever understood my head very well. I'm confused, there is much to be said about me, as the journey of self-knowledge never ends and I have been fully aware of this and they do not, we are left with a lack of subject often. I've always been a precocious in most things, and this is another thing that they never liked ... My individuality and desire to be independent since childhood, has always bothered. But that's how a family should be, right? Each united by similarities, and duly recognized as unique human beings by their differences. If we are only reflections, reflections are blurred, because that is often blurry show everybody how each of us is unique and special in their own way. Each human being with free will, qualities, defects and similarities connected by a common feeling: love.

Insane

I'm insane

When I feel like I need to disappear

When I feel this way, I lose myself there.

I'm insane

Result irresponsibility of many joints

Belonging to people idiots

But I do not belong to them.

I'm insane

Since the purest source of my veins

Until the last cell of my heart.

Can be windy or summer breeze.

Sit with class, or shot down.

I'm insane

And because I'm so nobody calls me

But tease me differently, intense, smart and shallow.

I'm insane

But not always.

As nothing is eternal even

My moods are only moments

Insanities are of my soul that always walking distant.

Instants

We are instants

With the same duration it takes to strike a match and create fire

We ended up at the same time a drop merges with the rest of the water.

We are instants

The time it takes the sun to appear completely in heaven

The minutes that it takes to apply.

We are instants

Each wave of the sea every second in that break, we break, too.

Each grain of sand that closes around our feet, we close in feeling to enjoy the massage involuntary

And this feeling goes as fast as every grain that is indistinguishable from our eyes looking far away

Eyes that open and close in an instant.

We are instants

each step

each hug

each kneading

every smile

Each disappearance.

End up with each of us.

Every day is just more

And every day just get behind.

Every thing is over

Or starts and does not give anything.

we are moments

always equal

We are the same now and maybe later the same

we are always the same instants before.

As fireworks that last only one second inside the boundary between old and new.

Nothing more than an instant.