Notebook

Compulsive writting
A notebook
All has a purpose in life
No I am not ill
I took this habit to write
To save myself
Of....this desperation holding in my profound self

I hide all in a smile
Or do I really?
I write to let go
I have learned how to dwell in the land
Of eternal dreams
I have letted some thoughts on paper
Maybe the right to loose a bit of my innocence

I have left behind me
Many things
And my mind wander in the blue
In the land's words
To let me recover of the reality

Story telling

Why is that so important to tell people stories? Because it usually reflect our profound personnality.
I am sure as reader we didn't not realise this or just slightly. You are in your bed your book in hand and you suddently go somewhere else. I personnally love the once upon a time stories specially Grimm's brothers and Andersen. I was born with old plate discs and my mum used to let me heard tales for hours without disturbing me. Now the new generation don't know what it is to picturise the story by self. All is already made no more efforts nothing just following no creation from the mind. Even reading is more like picking graps in different houses.

The story telling appear as a new object of study because it must be realistic. No place to dream or create yourself your own way of thinking the story you see on the screen. SO where is the power of creation of our brain? People usually think in term of reality and not of evasion. All must stick to the anxious news. We live in an area of fear terror and threat. No more dream misters Grimm no more creation dear Andersen. In the 21th century nothing is more important of reality.

Story telling will kill our way of creativity by giving a sense to the horrible reality of nowadays forming generation of future adults.

Well it is only someone in her nearly 30 who appreciate to go back in her childhood's memories which write that. The only thing I want is to dream not staying in the same world as I live in.

You

I have ever remembered the soften time when you were with me just nearby
That gave me a heartbit that I didn't find again
I have since then never think of that
Or probably I didn't allow me to feel this again

When I dream of my garden
I want you by my side
I want you but you are to someone else

I just think it is unfair
But what can I do against that?

Are you happy do I often think?
My heart stay empty
But not of my memories

Imagining

You have probably meeting a woman somewhere in the street that you really find beautiful.
In her head you could find projects that life never let her finish
Some bad nightmares some bad experiences
But also some good as well
A party to her friends
A wedding
A night writting

What is the outside of someone?
Dont try to imagine it
Some suffer in silence
Not knowing when it will get better

This woman could have been a friend a sister a mum an aunt
A business woman a nanny a granny
A single one a widow a jobless a bride

How you feel inside could you ask?
Her eyes could have tell you
What happened before?
Could I trust you ?
Why asking me you are a stranger

Slowly you think she is offended
But not at all
You just has to know she don't give all in one way
Beeing misterious is what she prefer
She need time

                                                                                           "I am better now"

Answer

Why should I hide my feelings to you
When you just said how are you?
Twice this week
You meet me with these words

 If you could read my mind
If you could be god
You won't ask this terrible question
I come back to life slowly
Even fears are nor on my way
I try to survive

Is that all people wanna do
After nightmare?

to I.W

Letter to a friend

I meant things you never heard or looked at
And now you come to comfort me
What a shame dear friend
You should be there when needed

As far as I recall myself
You were by my side when I needed
Before you left our country

You come back and I changed in between
Much sorry the life was incredibly hard
And my heart shuted itself to support anything that happened in my life
I hanged till I couldn't bear all sudden changes
I stand still and alone waiting better days
Having to cope with accute anxiousness that I couldn't describe
How much time my heart raced and letted me numb
How I was angry and frustrated

Maybe it is just past or dream?

to SM

What is...?

 What is purpose?

A thing to tend to

What is life?

A part of human beeing

What is waiting?

A stop on a road