oorovska

I cannot be a villain, cannot be a saint.I do wrong, but I'm not a bad person. Why can't I be the villain? Like in fiction, one dimentional character?  Why remorse?But if you change for the better, are you still You?After all those changes how much Me in me is left?

I will be talking to the sky, I will be talking to the trees and I will be talking to the mirrorsfor there is this one who was and always will be my inspiration the one hidden in my creations and if she writes letters I feel like I can/should/willthis little poetic poorly written but honest confessionsin a foreign language because it forces me to put things simplerand there it is - methere is something deeply wrong something thretening I can not stand my own skin my bones hurts they try to crowl out of my body I can not do anything but want everythingand there is too much love in this little head of mine