Every day when I open my computer - either my inbox or Facebook - I have a dream. A simple dream, so easy for the average person usually; but so difficult, so unlikely in my case: I dream that the friend (s) with which the various (SW) I more or less frequent contact - but still, each (e) anchored in their own way deep in my soul and my heart - occur to me one way or another to me. Whenever I write a text, a poem, a story, it is also thinking of all those people who appreciate my literary universe, both fantasy and gothic tinged with heroic fantasy, philosophy and mysticism . In thinking of all those people who read my news on both historical and esoteric, occult and shades of mystery and magic, supernatural and science. Whenever I publish one, I look forward to the reactions and stuff, sometimes long, sometimes short, of those men and women who enjoy reading this. But few take the time to give me their opinion, share their feelings with me, that my words, my sentences, awakening in them or in them. Some or some argue me that I, too, I should post my comments related to their own works. I admit, Im working on very little. But be aware that writing is taking a job as it is thrilling, and that takes a lot of energy and time. If I had to spend so much time reading, dissecting, studying and reacting to each of the texts, stories, or poems that you submit to me, I will not have the opportunity to continue as a work rich, excessive, complex and multiple that is mine. Every day, while my work as a writer forced me to immerse myself in dozens of historical books, esoteric, mythological, philosophical, as I journey with eagerness to draw from Internet sources and information that I miss, Ill not able to devote the energy and time required for the preparation of Chronicles ranging from the Dawn of Humanity in today. Also, Im always careful to be as present as possible with people who are dear to me, who do me the honor of their friendship, or simply me who devote some of their time. In this case, I share a lot with them. I extend small personal messages, I inquire of their daily lives, their thoughts, their dreams, their hopes. I am interested in their areas of interests, their passions. Sometimes I publish on my wall that I like, images of worlds that inspire me, I am referring to, that interest me or that exalt me. Every time I come on my page, the beating heart, full of hope, I imagine that those whom I expect answers, arise, give me the opportunity to penetrate a little deeper into their lives. Create a unique special relationship, sincere, that goes beyond the episodic contact, impersonal and fragmented. I am an extremely sensitive man, far more than many imagine. I suffer every day of these silences, these absences of those I admire here, which I appreciate, I feel the need to find me beside them, if only virtually. I often feel that I am nothing more than a anonymous from others who do not deserve their attention. What I feel for them or for them is nothing but a fun pattern; or just when they or they have nothing else to do; just to fill in some moment of boredom, waiting for better ... Im not saying what I feel is real. But, thats what I feel, simply. And I suffer greatly. I cry, I struggles, as in a quicksand which I can not escape. I call for help, I reach out to the outside, and the person that I expect, I hope, continue into the night. Darkness covers me at all times; fog inundates my environment, and I lose, Im terrified, abandoned these eters of flesh and blood Im trying desperately to reach .. Im so tired, I was exhausted regularly try to make me hear to approach these people. While walls imprison me, and only their voices, their attentions could guide me to release my conscience, my life continually stay ...
Posted on: Tue, 02 Sep 2014 13:48:50 +0000
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