sexta-feira, 25 de abril de 2014

De uma garotinha

Once upon a time That was a girl.
A girl with the world inside of her, and a desire for the stars.
When she discovered songs, she wanted to listen to them all, when she discover words, she wanted to know them all, when she discovered stories, she wanted to read them all.
The girl would cherish every book she touched, but always keep an eye on the next one, the hunger for the lifes of  imaginary people never ending
She wished to be them, to be their friend, to change their stories, to have what they had.
It`s funny how she read her books.
She`d always take a sneak peak on the last page, just for the feeling to read words that made no sense at the moment, but in a while, would.
It was magical!
The same words, meaning nothing in a moment, and the moment changed, she read the story, and those same words now made all the sense in the world.
The girl grew up.
She still liked her book and her stories.
She still wanted to know the meaning of every word.
But she stil didn`t.
And she still wish to have what the stories had.
They had the certainty. Every single bad guy would be defeated, every problem would be fixed, she could count how many pages to the happy ending.
She wanted her life to be like that. A sneak peack and you can tell the end of it, even if it doesn`t make sense, she wished to count the days left to her happy ending, she wanted somebody to tell her every problem would be fixed.
But nobody will.
And she can`t have any of that.
Because if her life is a book, she is not the one reading it.

Monnique São Paio (26/04/2014)

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