I open the book of my memories...I see scenes I've forgotten.
Some, still sad, bring scars 'till the present.
Wounds that bleed, despite the long years that had passed.
Our pain never dies completely, although it sometimes seems to go away.
And, inside of our soul, this pain becomes a type of cancer, that creates rows and covers all the arteries of our body.
Today, just today I can see how difficult it is to remember.
How painful is to bring the past back and live for some instant what does not exist anymore, but that inside of us,never dies completely.
My ancient fears are facing with me.
It seems that I see my face reflected in the mirror of the time.
And the time charges what I left forgotten in its col.
The time brings, as in a gust of wind, everything what I rejected.
How sad it is to understand that we do not grow to be ourselves and when the moment to look backwards arrives, searching the
essence of what we were born, it comes across with the unhappy
situation to discover that we cannot find who we were and it is not possible to remember all the ideals that one day we had, anymore.
The future, when it arrives, just reminds us of the painful days of our past and places under the reach of our memory, only the
cruelest moments, the ones we wouldn't like to remember.
And the few good memories that we still have are so distant of our present that we will never be sure again, that they have, some day, been real in our life.