I used to be so comfortable with my assurances – and that means my own sadness, yet my crazy little crises on existentialism. By now all my self confidence is gone and I actually don’t know how to follow its steps anymore. What I was in the past walked away from me. The worst part is that it was not my fault. I mean, probably you’re judging me at this point, but guess what, I couldn’t help my sanity this time. See, there is a girl in the whole story, it starts with her and end up now that she isn’t here anymore. What I still feel about her is so fucking unbearable; because you can’t love that much one single woman, can you? It’s agonizing to see right into her eyes and just wish to be quiet feeling her breath in your own body. I past uncountable nights messing with her hair after she slept and staring at her sleepy face in the pillow. I just loved playing with her hands and feet. I tell you what, talk to her in bed and smoke beside her after sex was so damn good that I can’t easily stop to think about all this. My earlier life was to be hard pressed into bad dreams, painful nights and days like nights. And then she came, dancing in my front door; that’s when I just met my madness. We got what all you people only can whisper about. What we lived could ruin some philosophical truths around the world about being happy. But God is a Bitch with a Big Bad B, you know? So it’s over by now. I can’t find myself without her anymore, what means nothing or even less to her and we still by ourselves. As she came by, dancing in my front door, she went away on a non starry night yet dancing and singing my music. While she walk away I want to call her back, but she can’t listen to me and keep on track. So I die in the road, I stop walking and don’t want to take a ride. Maybe she turns back and I’m afraid if I move a finger she couldn’t see me. I stay for a while. It could be forever. Anyway, my life is to be forever hers – she standing by me or not. Now I sit by myself in the middle of the street and look up to the sky, but not even a cloud of good luck, nor a single star has the courage to shine again. I gently scratch her front door to ask her to one more dance. I wish we could sing another day once again. I wish she at least hears my softly knock knock and maybe opens the door in funny pajamas asking me why the hell I took so long to came.

Night night, sweetie.