Sparking Green Beans Microwave

Dreams 2 Dreams and delusions and delusions

I dreamed last night, to live the day before my death sentence. Well, yes: in my dream I was aware that he was sentenced to death, execution would take place the next day. For this reason my hair (in the dream longer than in reality) had to be cut, and I myself have decided to do it. To my immense surprise, I then saw that they were just more clear cut. Practically blond. I felt oppressed, as if I had a boulder on his chest, and I was distressed over belief. It all seemed so real. I could hear voices around me I knew the feeling sorry, I felt they felt sorry for me, but I could not understand to whom they belonged. Gradually, I realized that it was a dream, but part of me was convinced that the death sentence was real, how real was the implementation ... And it all became very confusing, until I woke up. The feeling of oppression has been going on for a while ', I still felt anxious and it took me a while' to realize that there never was any death sentence and that, consequently, there would be no execution .
rarely so well I happen to remember a dream, and sometimes that happens to me is always dreams of this type. I do not know why all this, I really do not know.
Of course, while this may serve as inspiration to get my hands free, it is still good.
is perhaps the dream I had last night, is it that so many things in my past have resurfaced in my mind, but my heart bleeds. Again.
Why must I be denied what I need? Why should I consider it an impossible dream, when I see that everyone around me, however, is reality? I'm tired of suffering, are tired of swallowing the tears behind my smile and camouflage so reassuring. I'm tired of pretending to be comfortable when but I have not yet ceased to suffer. There are wounds that now I have forgotten, there are wounds that remind me constantly but their presence ... But perhaps there are wounds that never close completely and, as evil can do this awareness, I have to live with. Every now and are being felt, with all their burden of pain, and every time it is as if a thunderbolt hit me, but then everything calmed down and I almost get the impression that these wounds to heal. But I must be careful not to believe in this illusion, or the next time you reopen the wounds, I could not resist.
I wish my life was more peaceful, I wish this was part of my life so much desire, that so far I have almost always looked as if through a glass. I know I have to break and, despite my fear, I know I'm capable of doing so. And I'm going to do it. Hurt, suffer perhaps more than now, but I now know to be alive , and not simply in life, then I will have an awareness of being infinitely more, I'll get to a level definitely higher. The

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Disconnect Bad Signal Internet Letter

True Reflections Night

E 'is now one of my many sleepless nights. I do not sleep, I can not: my mind has become too small a container for all the ideas, thoughts, memories I have and they're overflowing. Writing has become the only "cure."
I need it like a drug, and the night has become my ideal state. Not a place or a time period, but a real state.
At night, the very night is much more than the period in which the sun illuminates the earth is a state of mind, a way of life, a condition of the soul. One way to think, to find peace, to remove the mask that is worn regularly during the day. I asked myself many times because I can almost only at night to have a deeper and more authentic contact with the real me. Obviously, this is part of my nature, a nature that only a few years ago I learned to accept, although I knew a long time and this is the conclusion I have reached. A chill has
just the way my body: closing my eyes at that moment I felt as if I were not just in my room, sitting cross-legged on the bed at crazy beat words on the keyboard of the pc ... But elsewhere, outside, wrapped in the night and nothing else, listening to the silence only to find my inner music. Rather, to rediscover it. Because I knew well, once, and then, coincidentally, the night I listened carefully and I did drag her. I saw myself and I approached us, but something made me fall, I did not believe what I was seeing was real. Now I'm back to that state, are in touch with my true essence, while the night brings me while I let the Night is part of me. I can hear my music again, I recognize it: it becomes more defined, clearer, is beginning to urge. I can even perceive vibrations in me. I'm making music. I always have been, why I love her so much. Loving the music, loving the night, I love myself. I'm facing myself, as if I look in the mirror, but I know I'm going to lick it in contact.
One step is done, I look hard in front of me and my peers I patiently essence, as it advances toward me at my own pace. I stretch my arm to make contact ... Are nearer to the final contact is imminent ... Contact ... The
Contact. The

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What Is Colar Intensifier For

E 'a long time since I was a desire to write like that, straight off, without thinking. I'm taking revenge on all of this dark period. And I had created the dark, trying to repress this desire, this passion. Words perhaps thrown down by chance, but nothing happens by accident. If words are not so much in that order, there is definitely a reason. Although I can not see it right away.
Also this gives me proof that I have a brain, and it works better than I had ever admitted. I dream, I hope, like all m'incazzo. But I know why.
That which I would have shocked to feel rage now I'm more angry than before, I'm not ashamed anymore. The shame is for my fellow men who, although having a brain, do not. To keep people away, to avoid like the plague. People whose very afraid.
E 'instead come up with beautiful people who talk about these things and more, and I have the great fortune to have found someone with whom to do so. This person, perhaps unwittingly, has managed to show me and take the road more important than to myself. It made me open my eyes to many aspects of life to which I was almost brought to intuition, perhaps, but still I was not able to actually see. Now I can not. With the changes I made in recent years, but thanks to his company.
We tend to underestimate the influence that people have on us, and always manage to focus only on negative influences. This time it is not: I was already time to certain types of change even before we met, her presence is merely "accelerated" certain processes. Because it was time to happen, because it was the right time.
Nothing happens by chance, I've already said.
Talking, explaining, arguing, believe in something, and always compare them: this is just a human being a man. Or a woman. Indignant for a common cause, each with their own beliefs, but always for the same reason. Lay bare his own being through art and words. Put together the mind, heart and hands. Why who is capable of this will never be underestimated. Can be taken seriously short, may be considered crazy, may perhaps be somewhat feared (because intelligence is often bothers), but never, never, be underestimated.
I spent my life to underestimate myself and the only result is that the world has behaved in the same way. I was wrong. So what are my strengths, and I want to strengthen them even more, until I can do that, I know what my limits are and I want to do in order to meet and exceed those impassable and cut those that can and should be killed.
I've always tried not to admit it, but growing up in an environment in which the position was never well seen has left deep scars in me. Signs that I am able, little by little, to erase. I would say that from that point of view, much of the work was done. But there is still much work to do to reach the ideal level. I know I have the strength to do it with some success. And, most important, and beautiful, I know I am not alone in this. There are those who believed and believe in me, and only know this gives me so much of that force in more than you'll hardly believe it.
But I do not care if anyone believes it or not: this is my life, this is what I live and I want to hold it tight, because time is not returns. It waits for no one! The

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Goldwell Color Chart Red

The cry softly

I want to let go of their hands and write what comes into my head, even though it may not have a logical thread. Telling the strange feelings tonight, halfway between sleeping and waking, while a wind that seemed to me that I did not feel I pulled her face from side to side and felt a pain that, in reality, there was a real pain . Telling the overcrowding of thoughts and memories in my mind, the multitude of conflicting feelings that filled and still fills my heart.
For too long, I was not writing, and those little knots that I had inside me, that melted as they systematically I wrote, joined together in one big knot that I take a huge effort to undo. I started writing again, not caring much about what comes out of my mind, from my heart, my hands, because for now the important thing is that what I have inside will not remain longer confined indoors. It 'cry like a liberating, with the difference that has left almost in a whisper and it will take a long time to come back to silence. Maybe he will not ... And part of me if you wish. I feel like I need to scream, scream, but what? It does not matter. Now the important thing is the cry, which carries with it the pain, anger, fear that all this time have been enclosed in me as in a cage too small. A cage that I built myself, here's the paradox. I aspire to freedom and trying to reach build my own jail. So, as I built it, I can break down. I know I can do, and I started to do so. Hard work? Of course you do! But the beauty is that, although difficult, is not difficult.
I'm afraid ... But I will not stop. I'm still a step closer to full consciousness of who I really and, of course, exactly what I sense they are, I know what my strengths and my limitations, I can perfectly understand what these limits are overcome and what not . But this is not enough.
Some say that it is the fear that keeps us alive. E ' true, but not all: the fear, without the courage to fight it, keeps you alive, it is true, but it is not what makes you live ! The

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Ate Whole Bag Of Rice Cakes

'm back! E. ..

are the starting point,
or point of no return.
Cold, callous,
not feel anything anymore.
I know I have a voice, but I can not get it out
:
the scream in my mind
and nothing else.
I understand why:
because I do not learn anything, because there
relapse.
My memories do not help me destroys me
only.
You were here, still remember it:
spoke, but did not understand.
I tried to keep up with me,
miss knowing.
I was not there when you went away, but I felt
me: I could not help
,
but I can not accept.
I understand why:
because I do not learn anything, because there
relapse.
My memories do not help me destroys me
only.
If all this makes sense, please
able to understand it.
If he had not, however,
we live in vain? The

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