I've sadly discovered that I can only understand what’s been previously explained to me.
What leaves my intelligence out of the table.
But what’s even more pathetic is that I happen to be inspired by a pre-existing fact or thought.
What leaves my creativity out of the table too.
So basically my intellect consists in unconsciously forgetting any original knowledge and invent a fake reality.
What leavess my purpose completely on the table.
The reason I write for it’s another fake mystery. Because it is not caused by an overwhelming creative power as I like to think. The truth it’s that this push is fear.
The fear of forgetting what I’ve learned… The fear of been forgotten.
And there was him kissing her and there was she watching them. He perceived the smell of her hair and immediately stopped his passional crime. But that hair was already walking trough the door when he intended to grab her arm and give her his explanation; an explanation she didn´t need- because explanations only take place in a confused mind-and she never expected a different reality.
She never thought he was different because different occurs to be rare and no one wants to kiss rare, otherwise they prefer to marry unhappiness. And she was not different, because different happens to be feared and no one wants rejection.
What makes all of us want to make a difference but not really mean it because what we all truly want it’s to be understood.
Of course she will forgive him and of course she will smile… till the bells of unhappiness sound and normal never end.