I don't wish for them to understand. It's unnecesary actually. I don't think they would anyway. I don't know. I don't even catch a maybe.

I just know that I can't tell you what destiny is, or why is it different to 'life' and 'live'. That I can't tell you why hate and love must hurt in equals amounts or why white and black make you blind no matter what's the one you end choosing. But I feel, and sometimes I feel just too much.

I believe I don't even know what thinking is or how am I supposed to make a difference between the real things and the fake ones. And I still feel, sometimes so much that I can't even properly tell you what is it that I feel.

Sometimes I can see, and there are shiny things like beautiful jewels and sad tears; and sometimes there are dark paths full with genttle and sweet whispers. But eventually, all of it gets destroyed as the time pass by.

I don't think I understand what farewells are as well as I don't think I can explain you what's the difference between being doomed and being a miracle. I'm supposed to be able to hear, to see, to feel the touch and taste and smell; but I just feel. Sometimes just too much. Sometimes I just feel too much and it's a pity, or wisdom; whatever... sometimes everything is just the same.