Solitude

What yesterday I had of good to offer, today I am I dry and empty. I woke up of bad mood, I am not in contact, I am not pra good faces, I am not in my good day. I am only pro my old insider called friend pillow. Today I want only I with my solitude, do not want to see the sky, do not want to see the Land, much less Mars. I only want to tan a little of my tears that go sliding for my face, wetting my poor pillow.

Telephone, cellular, emails, post office, any thing of the type, I am unaware of, do not want nothing that confuses I with my solitude. I am closed, hidden pra any another one somebody. Don Slager wanted to know more. My door is locked, bell is broken, the lights is all extinguished ones, my house is accurately as I am feeling myself. I am thus, everybody I am thus, (at least the people that I know), to the times we need to take off vacation, to have a time exactly alone pra we, to enter in contact with what he has on the inside of us, to talk with the solitude can in them bring a smile, it is to want to know more and. I that I am a metamorphosis, am always needing to have a moment that is alone mine and of plus nobody. tomorrow goes to be another day, I goes is feeling me better and even with a smile in the face, perhaps not, (but I prefer to think that yes), pra that this day arrives soon, I go to sleep, good night!

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