domingo, 6 de febrero de 2011


Sometimes I find myself wishing for the answers, but answers do not belong to me nor to anybody else. Answers belong to themselves and are quite shy, cruel, and selfish. It is for this reason that people usually find themselves without them or creating answers of their own which are not really answers at all. Nevertheless, one does not stop craving those forbidden answers.
I continuously blame the answers for not showing themselves and remaining in hiding. Bloody cowards, they are. Whenever one needs them, they're nowhere to be found. Alas, sometimes answers do reveal themselves, and when this does happen, it usually brings along an avalanche of real and false answers (man-made or otherwise) that crush one's aspirations to death. I wish I knew the answers, but I fear they may be my doom, an unavoidable one. I sometimes remind myself of a dog chasing its tail; it wouldn't know what to do with it if it caught it. When the answers come to me, I am afraid they'll come from the back with knives in their hands, ready to be bloodied as much as required.
As good old Neil said, answers cannot be unlearned. One does not simply remove the knives from one's back and go on; once a drop of blood is spilled, the rest flows quicker.

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