I had a dream... in my dream I was a doll.

Can you recall those chilhood days?... There were girls, silly girls dreaming of dolls...and there were boys who were out there saving the world.
Oh yes! There are thousands of girls, little girls with their perfect little dolls...
What a dreamy toy they are!..these thin, cute, perfect little dolls...
They're like puppets and you are their master...
They can be anyone they want, do anything they want!..beyond your wildest imagination...
...But what a beatiful housewives they make!
They only live to keep everything in order and everyone satisfied...nothing else matters, and there's nothing wrong with that. A little doll is always smiling... I bet she's so happy!

I had a dream... in my dream I was a doll.
A cute perfect little doll fit to do anything her masters would ask her with a charming smile!
I had this dream, long time ago I dreamt and then I couldn't wake up...
I was a doll, a puppet trapped in a ghost house keeping everything in order and everyone satisfied...trying as hard as I could to stay alive!

...Always with a smile...and still I wonder, are dolls happy?...could they ever be?
you wold think they don't have a chance...

No one can notice a tear when it's masked with a laugh...so you do it! You laugh so they can't hear you don't have a heartbeat...you don't have a heart...

What a perfect life! Don't you think?
My bad...We don't really live...no...we can't even choose what we do, how we feel or who we are...
No..this is no life.......but then again....everyone loves dolls!!

Arte

Un Cuadro maravilloso de una artista genial!

La Jeune Martyre - Paul Delaroche

"La perfección es muerte; la imperfección es el arte."

Manuel Vicent.

....Esto lo escribí cuando tenia 12 años....Que triste sentir tal vacío desde tan tierna edad....

Sufro en silencio, nadie lo nota pues mi vida es un disfraz....
No soy ni la mitad de lo que desearía o pretendo ser.
Soy una mezcla de odio, dolor, ganas de vivir y morir,
que se camufla bajo un antifaz de alegría, niña perfecta e inteligente, que lo tiene todo para ser feliz, y sin embargo no tiene nada... porque eso es lo que soy...nada...

Llora mi alma aunque mi rostro ría....
mi cuerpo esta presente pero mi espíritu lejano...
mis ojos miran alrededor maravillados aunque en realidad solo vean un mundo blanco y negro en el cual la cotidianidad devora el amor...la vida.

Tan solo quiero salir de esta prisión que todos llaman cuerpo y dejar que mi mente vuele libre por el mundo de los sueños, donde realmente puedo vivir...

Hasta ahora solo consigo que en algunos momentos ese mundo se filtre en este...momentos que pasan y no vuelven...y que inmediatamente son rechazados por los guardias de esta prisión donde los prisioneros terminamos resignandonos a vivir en la cárcel de nuestro dolor....