Something I wrote two years ago...

What is it about real life that changes us so much? It sometimes feels like we enter this new dimension where everything stops being different. Too afraid to explore our desires, too lazy to pick up the phone, too lonley to be happy. It seems we are reaching a point where life almost stagnates, suspended in a moment of continuous monotony. And we fight to break out, by going to parties, by changing jobs, by applying to gradschool, by breaking up and getting back together. But in the end, when the lights have faded, it seems our stories never change. You are always coming back to the same promises and threats, I find some new to hope to shatter, always failing to notice those who hope for me.

The Ladybug

I went out to lunch yesterday and when I got back I noticed her. Small and yellow, she was strolling sad up and down my black sweater.

"My wing is broken, you see.." she explained with a tiny voice.

I suddenly remembered leaning back on my chair a second before. Just like that, without a thought, I crippled her.

"I'll offer you a home" I said. "Stay here and eat my green tree, he won't mind". She smiled as I was noticing two leaves frown their angry faces at me.

Oh well, what can you do.
So now she is my new guest, dwelling on my little tree under the bright white light of my lamp. Would you come to say hi, and maybe tell her how one day the wing will heal and she will fly away? And maybe, if it's not to heavy, would you help me believe she will carry away my secret wish on her wings?