then I think I fall in love, but I don't. then I build dreams that vanish sooner than sandcastles. then I want to change, but I'm afraid, ashamed and hide. then I make up excuses for what Ï'm not. then there's this one question that bothers me: " G., are you nuts?". then I sleep a lot, forget everything and wake up to start the story from scratch. then I'm spinning around an infinite circle trying to find my way. then I tell myself I should dare to dream more and stop writing gibberish.
what then?