everything i see when i wake up
annoys me.
Both internal and external.
The fear that life
would be unfinished.
The consciousness that you couldn't be
what you wanted to be
so badly.
Due to intimacy,
we are attached to each other.
The connection is compelling:
she requires exclusivity.
Sharing is betraying.
When others abstain us from their
devotion, respect and admission,
why can't we just say to them:
I don't need all of that,
i have myself.
Isn't it an horrible form of un-freedom,
that we can't do that?
Doesn't it make us slaves to the others?
Which feelings can you insert against it,
as barrier, as bastion?
Of which nature should the
inner freedom be?
Since then,
i know how people are connected
and intertwined with one another
till their deepest depths,
without them having the slightest presumption
that they are.
words extracted from book: Nighttrain to Lisbon
