Feeling Wet Before A Period

is curious how the clarity comes when we least expect it, often we are surrounded by people who give us views and opinions do not hear or guide we do not want to interfere with our senses.

We're doing as we walk and the price of their own decisions are the consequences, but not always set variables dunk in the final equation.

In "All That Jazz, Bob Fosse portrays the stages before the inevitable arrival of death, divided into: " denial, anger, covenant, depression and acceptance ", always believed that understanding these stages were of almost perfect accuracy.

Yesterday I decided to finally confront this book I had stacked in the middle of a couple of boxes, reading was so pleasant to spend the day arrived and with it darkness, the long-awaited final.
hours, minutes and seconds are commissioned to recreate in my mind, scribbling illusions, lost in what I thought "the best ending, no obstinacy obstatante bit me hard and reading the last pages, the amazement is interspersed with a bitter taste, to the whimsical idea of \u200b\u200bthe author of course opposed to the reader. Angry

me up, I went to the fridge for a glass of water, lit a cigarette, I wanted it to rain, but no, there was a breeze and even managed to rough up one of my hair, I sat looking at nothing herself, and realized through rebuttals the magnitude of that final.

cost me all my life to accept the loss of loved ones, complied with all stages of All That Jazz, less acceptance.

That power could be more successful and powerful than my love for death interrupted in my life taking foundation of the soul.
As might go from being the love of a life, a life.

I thought of the book, and another idea came to my mind, the imperative of "being" impetuous and petulant idea of \u200b\u200bwanting to transcend this life, the need to make a mark, the belief that not only have passed unnoticed, but we set the best of memories. When
one such proud to present the various losses that a person is subjected during life begins with a denial: - "If I was to you ...." and the other stages to mature fall depression.

The book let me note that what ever is staying stopped perpetrating the yearning past, conjugating verbs in the wrong time, with fluctuating conditions, the treasured moments in crypts.
never noticed the audacity to say goodbye, said countless times, chosen and desired as many, and unfortunately imposed by the rules of life, sometimes sad.
smiled I found myself alone in front of the blue, but something in me was changed had finally achieved "acceptance" is not always the desired end, but understanding precisely which inevitably had to die to be reborn in today. Esmeralda



Photo: siempreaflordepiel.blogspot.com