Forum interior

I don't know. I know I don't. There are certain things that come back and make me look inside myself. It's a spotted room. There. And I fall into meditating. But this job is the one that I hate to take. I'm the transmitter and the receiver. The speaker. I am the listener. It comes all over, back.. and I think it's all arranged, like the meaning to be. But being means (trying the) Living. In the very sense of all senses. I need to tell. To show. To breathe. Sometimes I need to vanish my pains. Those that are not external, hurt few times deeper. They scream only for my (t)ears. To be honest, I should be the only reader of this paper. The reader of the writer.. Me and me. The changing of roles is constantly, yet increasingly circular. But as I throw a retrospective look back at how it used to be, I was pretty used to Me. I was my friend and my charger. Now I have developed my double function a bit, moving to a way of shaping me as my own care bearer.  The better. (to be continued).