They had begun to think about the great magic of texts and how they manage to take us to different places approaching words.
<p><center>The words are the train and the destination is yet to be seen at the end of each writing.</center></p>
For the first time I decided to write a story something different from what I always write, it has several parts that I will climb little by little. I hope you like it.

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<h2><center>The night of my death</center></h2>
<h3><center>Secrets</center></h3>
I enter the room, and I go undressing while he snatched every secret from me, I feel like the humidity runs through me, it is my face soaked in tears. I look at you and I face once and for all who I really am, even if it means living doomed, but I'm not willing to remain my own jailer. If someone has to punish me, life has already taken charge; it always takes charge, even if I run or hide, it always comes for me.

<center><img class="aligncenter wp-image-773 size-large" src="http://elocuenciadsnuda.vornix.blog/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/B7CBF9B3-3FFA-47EA-BD78-DB120693FC4C-768x1024.jpeg" alt="" width="768" height="1024" /></center><br/>

It's a maze of streets and everything ends up in a closed alley, I always preferred that... at times I thought you could deal with it, with me, with who I really am but today I have realized that all my fears were true, if I want to count on someone I can only start with myself. Even if you love me, maybe you love more what you think I am, and that's not really me at all.

I'm not afraid, everything goes beyond, once beyond the banal comments, the uncomfortable looks and the voices whispering in the background. I'm just standing there watching myself as the world crumbles, I don't notice it anymore, maybe I lived it so many times in my head that when it became real it stopped importing, so many things stopped importing without realizing it... but I'm happier that way and I think that's what it's all about.

Many people talk about a friend and look for him without stopping, before I thought I had something particular, few times I got to know him but I think they were the right times. It was when I needed it the most -or so I thought- there remained the emptiness, that emptiness that could not be filled by my friend, whom many people call money, the best call greed but they are the same as the rest that gives it thousands of names: love, need, anxiety, sadness comes in a thousand forms and in all of them it is usually an infinite search. I found it for a while, and it was enough to notice that everything goes much further, there are things that cannot be appeased with something so banal.
<center><i>Who am I? Does it matter? Where will I go nex? What's left then?</i></center></p>
<center><i><center><img class="aligncenter wp-image-774 size-full" src="http://elocuenciadsnuda.vornix.blog/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/DEF16B6D-C4C0-4A13-ADE1-3EA645E2D787.jpeg" alt="" width="910" height="748" /></center><br/></i></center></p>
I don't know and I don't think much about it because I'm busy with something else, I don't know what it is but it's bigger than me and it's going at a thousand revolutions per second, I can understand it more I don't know if I can keep up with it? What is it? It's me, in various ways, all there watching me standing, some with a fierce face, others darker and many that I wish I could see more often, maybe I got used to lying, and not feeling but it's not who I am.
<center>Apparently the only person who can protect me from me is me.</center></p>


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<center>Everything is my own.</center></p>
<center></center></p>