Where Are All The Papers In Poptropica

A walk alone


choose is to give up. Me Will they say.

Choose the music and give to the heavy silence of my four walls. Choose and renounce the secret words and many displaced futile. Choose the bank and waive the right. Choose life without you, and abandon the false security that you wanted to get. Choose freedom, with his wounds, his pains, its dangers ... and give up our past dinners, watching TV. Choose

is a luxury. Select is a bold cry. Choose, still, there is always a choice, beyond the hesitation, fear of the unknown, the attachment to comfort, the certainty of this and get into the void of the delicious possibility of tomorrow, perhaps the of life.

A woman is given any choice. At any man too. Maybe. But I do not know.

Because women often make a choice or another in love. That stable relations and logical, mature and promises safeguards on natural progression and constructive, family ... or that of adventure, passion, excess, body, instant happiness. The choice of

reason or choice of madness. The reason

haughty and easy. Or folly and arrogant teenager. Stability. Or evenings alone in a city that hustles and sings. The habit that has a very tough side. Or the perennial prelude. Information. Or the perpetual abandonment.

I chose. I think. Without really choose because the choice was obvious to me. That of living. Love, cool water. Shoes and champagne. Living carefree about what will come, enjoying the moment that will soon end, with gray mornings and evenings already parties, background music and messages charming, intoxicating fears and girlfriends always starters, nights and days that combine to exist only two and form a whole and vulnerable yet durable. Living with the stability of the unstable, which installs as never to retire, smiling and bowing his victory, by far, hope.
A choice that comes alone. Which is no longer a choice for that very reason. Since we do not always decides his path. When one has in his heart an insatiable desire to go further.

And then one day, while walking alone so far from the sea, we realize we can not love when you do not know enough. And the dance of waves, the heat of the sand on my feet, the size of the horizon I win. In the mountains. Because I realize that I could not really love. Without discovering who I was.

choice, you have offered me. And among your gifts, that is dearest to me. ©