ON AIR: How leaves, Malika Ayane
keep thinking that mankind is embarrassing. It 's more powerful than me, but I just can not help it. This does not make me an unfit asocial hopeless [at least not completely]: I can smile at people, I am kind, I speak with people, even go to the gym and I do not think there is a place most promiscuous talking about social relations and human contacts. Nevertheless, in secret, in my underwear, I fight against humanity: I can not even unconsciously of sided with him. And I know who is thinking suicide, self harm, even not very intelligent: I am part of mankind, by God. I also have a birth certificate: I can try. But I must essermene pulled out a some point in my life. And maybe go back to be part of it is not possible, perhaps - as some might say - who has seen the truth [and I've seen distinctly] can not be saved. Salvation is to feel part of everything. And I hate to feel part of everything. Although, in most cases, it would be much more comfortable: the sense of belonging inevitably makes life easier. Even if you are part of a minority of the people or the 'controtuttoetutti', however it is aware of belonging to a group, a group of people who have common characteristics or at least common goals. I'm not part of anything, in spite of myself I belong to the human race and live a strange one - existential chronic disease - a sense of inadequacy. Or estrangement, I do not know. And do not even know why I'm saying this now: it might be a little 'pathetic and - I swear - is absolutely not my intent. I'm fine with myself and with my superiority complex . But I happen to feel uncomfortable. Here in the world, among people who do not understand a shit [why is this: people just do not understand a shit], I feel uncomfortable. More for the world and for people that for me, I must say. But sometimes for me, for the person that I find myself having to manage: it is not easy to deal with me.
However, twenty I graduate in April. 'S official, definitive and very, very close. I hope that everything goes well, it's a beautiful day, that the Board is human, that the shoes do not hurt me, that I happen to stumble in, that my ass does not look like a bulky foreign body, that My hair is not at the mercy of my hormones, that my diction is not bad as usual, that the prof. both friendly and accommodating, that my be incredibly nice, he's perfect [and I know that it will be, because he - in his own way - it is] that there is too many people, that my legs did not tremble, that all the world will stop being the useless jumble of shit and to obey the laws of physics which is entirely to my every wish and magically make that day a perfect day.
And then he took me to Barcelona. And I - just - I'm happy. Because that saying before, that the sense of strangeness, that is always but with one exception. And that exception, as they have not fully conscious, is making me a better person. A smiling with your eyes, for example. A sleeping peacefully [and does not wake up even with an earthquake, unless the exception is not the intimate getting out of bed]. And that does not have to wait for the next wave of pain to feel real.
I hope that God does not exist. But, if any, really wrong job.
This damn nostalgia.
keep thinking that mankind is embarrassing. It 's more powerful than me, but I just can not help it. This does not make me an unfit asocial hopeless [at least not completely]: I can smile at people, I am kind, I speak with people, even go to the gym and I do not think there is a place most promiscuous talking about social relations and human contacts. Nevertheless, in secret, in my underwear, I fight against humanity: I can not even unconsciously of sided with him. And I know who is thinking suicide, self harm, even not very intelligent: I am part of mankind, by God. I also have a birth certificate: I can try. But I must essermene pulled out a some point in my life. And maybe go back to be part of it is not possible, perhaps - as some might say - who has seen the truth [and I've seen distinctly] can not be saved. Salvation is to feel part of everything. And I hate to feel part of everything. Although, in most cases, it would be much more comfortable: the sense of belonging inevitably makes life easier. Even if you are part of a minority of the people or the 'controtuttoetutti', however it is aware of belonging to a group, a group of people who have common characteristics or at least common goals. I'm not part of anything, in spite of myself I belong to the human race and live a strange one - existential chronic disease - a sense of inadequacy. Or estrangement, I do not know. And do not even know why I'm saying this now: it might be a little 'pathetic and - I swear - is absolutely not my intent. I'm fine with myself and with my superiority complex . But I happen to feel uncomfortable. Here in the world, among people who do not understand a shit [why is this: people just do not understand a shit], I feel uncomfortable. More for the world and for people that for me, I must say. But sometimes for me, for the person that I find myself having to manage: it is not easy to deal with me.
However, twenty I graduate in April. 'S official, definitive and very, very close. I hope that everything goes well, it's a beautiful day, that the Board is human, that the shoes do not hurt me, that I happen to stumble in, that my ass does not look like a bulky foreign body, that My hair is not at the mercy of my hormones, that my diction is not bad as usual, that the prof. both friendly and accommodating, that my be incredibly nice, he's perfect [and I know that it will be, because he - in his own way - it is] that there is too many people, that my legs did not tremble, that all the world will stop being the useless jumble of shit and to obey the laws of physics which is entirely to my every wish and magically make that day a perfect day.
And then he took me to Barcelona. And I - just - I'm happy. Because that saying before, that the sense of strangeness, that is always but with one exception. And that exception, as they have not fully conscious, is making me a better person. A smiling with your eyes, for example. A sleeping peacefully [and does not wake up even with an earthquake, unless the exception is not the intimate getting out of bed]. And that does not have to wait for the next wave of pain to feel real.
I hope that God does not exist. But, if any, really wrong job.
This damn nostalgia.
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