Disorder

At this point the years weigh more,
Why can't I just let go, as if nothing had happened at any time to ruin my life or happiness.

At what point does something come along that ruins everything you think is real?
What is considered something really bad that can kill you when you were happy?

You and I do not work, we are not, we did not choose to be, we are not the mutual decision I thought, we are not the explanations of love in which I labeled you, we are not, we were not and we will not be.

We were a trap of destiny, you arrived when I wanted to be alone the most, and you made me think that taking a risk (at my age) would be worth it.

I hate you.

I would like many things -with you- but I'm better off without you.

I must leave this utopian world that I invented for you to stay.

I need to run away, I'm not at home.

Photographers: Delfina Vazquez