Y se me va el día entre las manos. Migraines and laundry and work (which I'll worry about tomorrow). I wonder how long it will take for this English to fade away; it is already getting hard to avoid making obvious mistakes (you're/your...). But I guess I'll try to keep it up. This weird language will probably help me see things differently.
These notes have no business being here. Well, pff, it's not like anyone actually looks at all these... And actual pen and paper are so far away. Like so many other things that now seem out of place. This brain needs to quiet down a bit.
It's all about entropy. And we know it. Not that it makes much difference in terms of conformity with the current desmadre que tengo por todos lados.
But, no, it's not all about the entropy, it's about the thrill and the excitement that seem to keep on hiding somewhere. It's about this firm point I can't quite find which prevents me from moving the Earth. It's this not-belonging anywhere, this not-having, this not-being. And these eyes that keep on focusing on the wrong stuff.
I like myself so much better when I'm not here.
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