Day after day, time after time, thing after thing.

Well, I'm here again writing. I have been refraining myself of doing it. There wasn't any reason to do so. On the other hand, there were plenty of motivations to write. What happened? It remains a mistery. Might be human nature. As far as I have seen, lots of human beings do things that they know can be nocive for their mental and physical health. And stop doing things that can improve them of make them feel better. A couple don't say "I love you" even when they feel that way. A son to his parents. One friend to each other. Days ago, this was the personal message from someone in MSN: "Actions, not words are which count". Or something like that. At a certain point, I disagree. Words can have incredible power. I hate you. I despise you. You are worthless. Those are words that you wouldn't like to hear (unless you're masochist or have some strange issue). I love you, I want to be with you, I like the way you are, I care about you, you're not alone. Those are the words you actually would like to hear. Everything counts: words and actions.

Then why someone who likes to write chooses not to do it. Maybe his thoughts are not clear. Maybe he is afraid of being misunderstood. Maybe thinks, again, that no one cares or that the people thinks "well...he's like that". As you, dear reader, can see, this argument doesn't have anything that sustains it. Telephaty isn't true (yet), so, it's difficult (impossible) to know someone thoughts, unless they are manifested in someway: speech, writing, even a painting could do the job. So, there is no reason to be silenced. At least, nothing rational.

But there is much more than rationality in human beings. That is the tip of the iceberg, an utopic state that cientists would like to achieve.

Then, the irrational being starts to scream. I am afraid. I am afraid of being lonely. I am afraid of being hopeless. Afraid that not even doctors and medicines can fix my fears and anguish. Afraid of losing the few friends that I have. Afraid that I won't find "someone" (you know what I mean) afraid of being here, angry and afraid, just wasting the oxygen. Afraid of causing my family grief...

Afraid of the people that can judge my life, afraid of not living...afraid of being death...before even live....

Well, this was a release, now I need to occupy myself in something that helps me. Cause even if I'm afraid I'm not giving up.