Ok, I think I'm starting to get it. Being an adult is not about becoming more mature just because, it's about being tired of getting so much pain. Now you get to a certain age when even when everything keeps on hurting you, you just can't remain feeling the pain and you start running from it. That's why you start making things you didn't used to make, like being more sociable and like being punctual, and like being responsible. You are just entering a new stage hoping, always hoping, to stop acheing so much. But nothing is becoming better on its own... Everything is just different. Fun things are not that fun anymore, but then again, bad thing are no longer that bad; they are just bad, but you no longer let them hurt you that much. You become a little more serious, a little less emotional, to avoid things, to avoid being moved, to try and find a stable floor to keep on walking on and carry on with your life
Nocturno III José Asunción Silva Una noche Una noche toda llena de perfumes, Una noche En que ardían en la sombra nupcial y húmeda las luciérnagas fantásticas, A mi lado lentamente, contra mí ceñida, toda, Muda y pálida Como si un presentimiento de amarguras infinitas, Hasta el más secreto fondo de las fibras te agitara, Por la senda florecida que atraviesa la llanura Caminabas, Y la luna llena Por los cielos azulosos, infinitos y profundos esparcía su luz blanca, Y tu sombra Fina y lánguida, Y mi sombra Por los rayos de la luna proyectada Sobre las arenas tristes De la senda se juntaban Y eran una Y eran una Y eran una sola sombra larga! Y eran una sola sombra larga! Y eran una sola sombra larga! Esta noche Solo, el alma, Llena de las infinitas amarguras y agonías de tu muerte, Separado de ti misma, por la sombra, por el tiempo y la distancia, Por el infinito negro Donde nuestra voz no alcanza, Solo y mudo Por la senda caminaba, Y se...
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