Love autism - and with the days of Prokofiev（九）

On lonely word from imprinting on down. Specifically, in my dream too much should be kept fixed voice, this is my only talent. I can hear the safest time to dust landing lonely voice of sleep breathing birds and insects in the soil to fight the voice of those voices, God knows how vivid. This is the most brilliant moments alone, the joy of the most cohesive. Even if it all just an illusion, imaginary, or even hearing voices and hallucinations, but I still feel God's mercy, though heaven to fall out of love, like autism, as my head dropped, as a world only a madman, what to complain about it. In addition to practical experience that is beyond fiction and fantasy, they gradually form the life complete.

In love before, and more meet only an illusion. Those who love the mastermind, the surface looks as pure and ardent love, if you can make me happy at all the way, that is false, the reason is false, because they desire a temporary collection to become the false impression the gentleman or the Warriors can finally close to the existence of desire, or even full ownership. But I have never refused to give them as an appropriate opportunity, I will realize that before the advent of desire, while personally love interrupted.

But I was so lonely and delicate security, almost never rough to survive a single minute, emotional driven over and over again I am sorry and guilty, in front of all the past and separation. I love more than once to turn back into a road, also sad pain more than once, followed by an empty heart, leaving only the face-off on the existence of a second touched and grateful. Days later, I tried to express his love, how much I love, but only so no depth. I will there in front of intimacy in the face before telling him over and over again: I miss you, I really miss you. As if to say, think, is a defect to make up for the same. So inexplicable to send about each other shocked: "I'm in front of you ah." ... ... I can respond to love, it was only against their own mobile phones and palm images one by one to never forget.

Encounter with the Prokofiev is a sound, a miracle, but I just was the fate of the guidelines to a certain place watching the love, the feeling of belonging to a small under the warmth of love, and destiny took me back to the starting point again. I stood there, the time the shuttle and the line, time threw me, my time outside, on top of my time to constantly look back to within the time, so there will be a cry of reason and courage.