Sometimes it's a life of spinster I need.
An old rich girl, means .
A large apartment, the endless corridors decorated with frames filled with sepia photographs of families that may have never known that not even the branches of my tree, if it is. A piano, which takes the dust dint of being loved too little. Books connected, the pages still sealed. A polished wooden floor, one of those squeaky soon as one is 2.3 not fox trot too.
And an environment of old, plunged into mothballs. Something that would have shifted the life, lifetime, and fixed forever, outside, outside, upside down and cons modes sofas design and feng shui-shit.
Street could continue to swarm, the JT may still announce more deaths, threats, an impending earthquake, perhaps, nothing moves. Peaceful. Unalterable. Far.
A context that does nothing to remind me never, I have, it seems, whole life ahead of me.
Because it is with whole life ahead of me that I take the time to never look into it. I never take the time to do it in my life before me, because I have friends my age to see, vodka drinking, nights to catch up, to devour books, American series to gorging, streets to be surveyed, trains and thousands missing, many of both. A mid-state mid-pensive lethargic which leads me to settle into my office and let me hang on till Card weekend. For several hours, I mean, my eyes do that, they hang on till Card weekend.
If only these tickets credit card inspired me a revolutionary idea that would overturn the world and stifle the wicked ... But not before those tickets where already the carbon pales, I swoon, first, having spent a wonderful evening. I then discovered the amount, great, it, too. And then, I blanched and try to remember. It's me, the wicked muffled now. Terrific, my evening passes formidiable. That's how I say, more recently, to qualify a night I could swear it was supposed, but I can not remember as shots of memories. And generally, this is the moment that I think of the incalculable amount of € invested in black holes. Biffetons much that if I had saved diligently, would have allowed me to stop being afraid to spend more than I have. I saw so much beyond my means than any up there, they look even more petits.Il seems it can not last.
I'm not the first to say, I will not last if I had was very rich, otherwise I would have been great. I gave my life that I promised him, small, in Dear Diary.
I'm not saying that I only worked for humanity or moved heaven and earth to the ozone layer. If anything, I would not even "made" ballerina saving lions during the holidays. I was ultimately the same, but better, a million times better €.
A kind of lazy pleasure, on a nicer couch. Surrounded by clocks which indicate that the seasons. That's really all that matters seasons, the hours, they even have a personality to them.
And most importantly, someone would have handled the mess of my store Thursday night. So Friday, I could m'attabler at a desk cleared of all these tickets credit card and a desktop friend, who would not have devolved. And the cherry on Ladurée, I would not feel guilty.
For there is no mistake, I said: I'm not complaining, and besides, I'm not complaining. I just know that the money and time spoil me. The money I have not the time I decided to take it anyway. The missing money and the time remaining, in fact.
Personally, I did ... I would have no problem with the idea of living in bed and read and write and eat, and stuff we do elongated and not the kind that layer on the paper. Ambition, career, recognition, all that, I'm going well above my meter 60. A little too much, I guess.
But now, according to my banker, I just can not afford it and I dare say I find it incredibly unfair can not afford that for which it was carved. Especially since not everyone would not want to live in bed to read and write and everything else. No. I would not take the place of anyone. This is not true. You, for example, would you do? There are enough people who want to move mountains, build a business or have children like that, there is nothing else for that matter.
For real, who loves me so much doing nothing, I find it absurd not to be born rich heiress.
is something that I put in my top 10 list of the most unfair things in my life, "not a rich heiress. And it is Deuze. The first is to be the type to put this injustice in second place. The third is to be a little crazy good. All this pin is not ultimately evil.
But being a little crazy is featured in the list of things I'm happy to be inhabited without asking for anything. Yes, I also have this list here. What? I'm a little crazy, that's all. And I complain and brag in 3rd position with all my lists. Yes, because I have other lists. These, books, restaurants, cocktails, country, assholes that if I I crossed them spit in his mouth, loves that if they stare down at me, I take in my arms. Each time, what happens in 3, is that either I'm a little crazy, I apologize for the crazy choice of 2 of the list because of my little madness.
A life of girl, horizontal, where everything is always prettier.
The right not to worry about the world, do not even ask me how I can (s) be useful for the conduct of this world, especially not realize that I am nothing and I'll never be useful at this Poor, poor world where all verticals announce as many collapses nineoneone and the other slaves, standing dead to build the tower in Shanghai's highest ground, so we are never as good as lying, and that's how we should all die.
A old daughter's life, listen to the radios that talk about classical music and avoid anything that relates directly or indirectly, News.
A hermit's life, where, however, the sushi would be delivered faster and better than in other neighborhoods.
A life without you, I imagine, too.
Yet.
Often it is a Maboule young life I lead. I write in the dust the piano "Me voy a bambalaya the Nuba, hasta la vista, baby" and with commas.
I listen to talk, have opinions on life, death, grief, the death penalty, abortion, and love. I laugh at me. I am my own show: a young lady who, with friends, sharing what others know better, know, period, but not just fail to turn the joke. I laugh at us. We do laugh at me. And I smile dreamily, pushing the sound of doom that is my alarm clock to tell me that life waits for me. It waiting for me, it seems.
I hope she is patient.
-maispastrop-
0 comments:
Post a Comment