Welcome back to the nightmare

- I can't go through all this.
- Why do you say that?
- I can't!
- Why?
- Because I wanted to be a writer, that's all.
- And?
- I wanted to write about it all, everything that happens in a moment.
The way the flowers look when you carry them in your arms.
This towel; how it smells , how it feels...It's thread.
All our feelings; yours and mine. The history of it. Who we once were.
Everything in the world; everything mixed up. Like it's all mixed up now.
And I failed.
I failed.
No matter what you start up with, it ends up being so much less.
Sheer fucking pride! and stupidity.
We want everything, don't we?
- I suppose we do.

Es media tarde. Está oscureciendo. Apenas despierto de mi larga siesta después de unos tafil y una copa de vino. Todo se ve igual, nada ha cambiado. El sueño no ha solucionado nada mas que hacerme tragar las horas a las cuales creía no sobrevivir debido a mi desesperación y a mi crisis de virulencia. Estoy enferma. No se de qué; pero a juzgar por mi comportamiento mi enfermedad se llama estupidez y estreñimiento.