Here I am. Finding my old hobby. I'm writing only to heal the pain in my soul. This is not a poem. Is something that I've written before. You don't remember it, right ? That one was about death. This one is about life. Life. This is such an amazing word. It represents all that a person can do by living. This was stupid. I don't know what to write anymore. Maybe I've lost my skill. I don't know what's going on ... I remember that I use to wrrte when I was sad. Only sadness gives me inspiration ?! I don't know if it's true ... but if it's that way, then somebody MAKE ME SAD !! But I don't wanna be sad. I got so many reasons to be happy. I got so many good friends around me. People who care about me. Or they ?! They care about me ? Why, with everything I say, I get suspicious ? In order to be a hero I need to be sad ? In order to be a hero I don't have the right to have friends?
But I don't wanna be like the main character from "Romanul Adolescentului Miop", written by Mircea Eliade. I don't wanna be like that. I wanna have friends. I wanna love. Or I ?