Respiratory life

And I pray for my heart to get lighter, realizing now that the seasons go through all. A sleep without me. A dream outside the body. Going beyond, meeting what possibly would have been me.

And I wish I could be more of a containable light, more mangeable for mankind.

No point in examining the reason why. There is no help in institutional measures. How much does my personality weigh? What is my worth in minutes and pennies?

And I beg: please, please unplug me like one shoot a wounded animal. Because this is not living. This is hanging on. And it doesn´t feel right in any way. You will all forget me. My body can´t be just for others. I am not my body. My body is not me.

Watch my reality from an angel of fiction.