- Psss psss psss psss

That sounds as a mosquito absorbs blood, of those that also absorb the soul to you, a micro part of 21 grams, I hope and in the world of the mosquitoes, there exist laws that they do not allow to be distributing a little from mine to yours, from ours to it of them. But I hope more still that if it is distributed what they absorb of my soul it should be neither to a human being, nor to any being of the ground, if my soul is distributed hope that it should be to someone or to something that it is not afraid.
although the micro theft was never stopping bothering me, this time was making so much power happy to listen to something, not because that was bringing me over in another place, if not because it was doing to me to think that I even was in someone's side. Close to another being.
They all are lying, there is no tunnel, there is not familiar and lively that I am a god, here there is no another person another being or anything like that that me is being.

To think that I am dead, he makes me die again.
I woke up, and understood that it had not been unconscious if not sleep, often it had this type of sleep. They were feeling so real, they all were different, but in none it could see and in all was always I and this horrible mosquito, which was never saying anything to me, but I was making myself answer him of one or another form.
I try to tell him to my mother, but it is very busy, in the wall along with the door of the entry. Also he asked him what is what it sees, but it is that she does not look already at me.
I have tried to speak with my father, it touched in long time in the quarter from which one month ago it does not go out, but only he listened as the books fall down to the apartment, and the fact is that either he does not speak to me.

So the sleep, also they sleep with me and repeat themselves infinitely while I sleep.
It is the price that it is necessary to pay, for the life, would say my mother. Every time I feel more alone and bewildered, there is something of the sleep that always returns with me to the awakening and is feeling me sleepy and in another reality.
My sister who is in the cellar, has not stopped repeating the same disc for 720 hours, the same songs are listened by the whole house, always down to ask him to remove it but the fact is that she does not stop shouting, it has not stopped shouting in a second since mom is in the door and swallows in the study.
Some strange things are happening lose because my fingernails are long and whenever I bathe, I end dirtier. I see it in my arms and in my legs, which end covered with mud. There are no mirrors, and you plant it of my feet they bleed all the time. I hope that when mom should be turned towards the room it should not get angry for the marks that it left in the carpet.
Iin the window everything seems distorted the boarding houses are not seen of the same form, it seemed that interference exists in this thick haze. on returning to my quarter everything feels gray my hands they do not seem more human. And it begins smelling to burned plastic, I ignore it because the eyelids weigh me, but that they even will not allow me to sleep.
It looks like the walls of the room that they cry, a liquid greasy and thick, so repulsive that I had to go out hence, nothing was fine, the things were turning out to be so rare but simultaneously very familiar, he should feel fear, even anxiety, but it does not affect me, I like the aroma to burned plastic and the ardor in skin.

          And only that the things are not fine because when I open the key of the bathtub, the water is clear as never earlier.
I see a little of my reflex, I am full of bruises, and have wounds opened in the forehead, my eyes they are completely black and tired although they are big, very big my lip is bleeding a drop falls down to the bathtub. I am paralyzed this it is me who is. My bones are given to my skin, I realize that I am fragile, my cheekbones are marked to the end, my hair is long, black, powerful, it is the only thing that it imposes in me, because for the first time I realize that I am not at all, if you look at my legs time the bones of the knees. And now yes I feel of everything, now if I am sorry to die.
I listen to the footsteps from the first floor, he listened rattling of the stairs, but I do not move, try it and fight but it is already too much late.
High, big, strong and angry. I can feel it in its eyes, it looks at me and later to the water, it gives him a punch to the door that is full of the viscous liquid, for the first time I realize such an intense red color.
It pulls me of the hair downstairs, it shouted but very well that nobody listens to me, on having happened next to my breast, I notice that its clothes are broken, blood dripping of its back and the sliest head of the normal thing.
I do not have time to think about her, feel a prick in the left thigh and little by little everything is a darkness
Deeply anesthetized
I am awake, lose, can move my hands, feel a few chains tied about my legs, my hands also they it are, that I am in the apartment. But I cannot see anything, between

more awake I am more the pain increases in the skin near to the eyes, between more awake I am more fear have, between more awake I am more my suspicions are confirmed.
My grandfather is the fifth member of the family, my dad brought it when the asylum closed, she is a character person and since it came mom had eliminated all the mirrors, the silver tools, the adornments and up to the candelabrum that existed on having raised the stairs, nothing where someone could be reflected and although it was small it understood it since my grandfather is horrible, horrible really, when newly it came it was covering of blindfolds all its expensive potato he says that in the war it was burned, after a time it stopped using them, it seemed that it had no face, everything was in another place, its distortion was impressive. I believe that there are the things they began becoming rare with the water. It was already not clean.

But it was well the truth is that it was not important for me that the word was not directing for me, perhaps he could not listen for such a high music either.

I want to go out from here, want to be able to open my eyes.

I shout, shout. I shout. But that nobody is going to save me.

Then he listened to a door, a few steps, did not listen to voices only the footsteps that every time are closer to me, then it seizes the hands to me and unties them.

I do not move remain immobile, listen as it moves away and the sound of the door to close.

I have my free hands, can touch my eyelids, but I do not do it, because I am afraid, because the answer, and because he wanted not to know it. But it is the moment to be strong. Now. this is always the answer.

I start by my neck and feel some bruises, they hurt, but not so much like my face, I am raising my hands up to coming to my mouth, can touch the blood, it is thick, I rise, raise and touch my eyelids, they are inflamed, also joined. I can touch the thread, and feel how it becomes damp, me to removed the eyes, now I feel a physical gap. the emotions weigh me, I feel that I will sleep again but you see this one it will not be for any prick, it will be because my mind cannot already any more.

Oscurida darkness darkness

I listen to its voice, feel how my hands tremble, feel incapable, who is speaking, but nose what he says is even listened by me very distantly, little by little it is shouting more loudly my name.

Vania, vania, vania!!
What? - scarcely it could be heard

to answer him was not for what he was waiting.

-Cannot you see me true?
- Not - this time was so low my voice that was not sure that he had listened to me

It took me of the arm, he was feeling that it was going to break me. But I did not say anything, even it nor was sure if it could cry.

- I do not want that you walk alone again for the house, this time I will bring your meals, and for no motive you will be able to go to the first floor

Do not answer, its voice was different, nobody would like to listen to it again, it was a voice that could kill.

Just listen to the door, and as it was putting key.

Darkness, darkness, darkness … but this time was not because it was asleep, this time was because it was more awake than never.

It fills me with courage, with anger, my mind cannot avoid it, and although it is impossible, I begin thinking how to kill it. One forgets me that it is of my blood, I think of making it suffer slowly, cutting its fingers, to cut the plants of its feet, to make it walk in rocks, and in the end decapitate it.

Nose how long it happens, but I relax on having felt a breeze, approach more, until my legs collide with the wall but my torso does not feel anything.

This was the most desolate and dead place, if it was not smelling to so many life.

The air knows to something that I do not know. my first thought is to jump.

But I do not do it, because that I realize that this cannot be my house, the only one that window that exists, is that of the room. And this one has no doors.

Nose that happens to him, I believe that it is having a crisis

It is the voice of my breast. for the first time he considered the possibility of being sounding. I even feel the breeze.

- Does it suck? - nobody answers

How long will it be? - he says again

Is it she I am sure, because he does not answer?, its voice is warm, as long ago it it was not, but he is not speaking with me.

“I love you”

Suck! Suck! Suck!

I am asleep. There is no another explanation, perhaps, do not be able to wake up and she is concerned and it has brought me to the hospital. A sleep is alone.

- “You have only to jump, and you will wake up”
- “Hello?”
- “Only it jumps”
- “I cannot, I am afraid”
- “Do not be afraid, I know the person that you loved that it had your soul.”

I do not know it. But he makes me resemble this damned mosquito and my desire, of which who should have a little of me, was not afraid. Perhaps this person it is me who might be.

It smells to roses, smells to life.

It smells to roses, smells to life. I will jump to keep on living.

- “It jumps - he said with sweet voice”
- “1”
- “2” - the stranger said

I raised my two legs at the edge of the window, many breeze, breeze. Breeze.

3

Darkness darkness darkness.

On April 20, 1985

The bells sound in a big city of Moroccan, it is a winter, and the sun does not warm, 20 persons well sheltered in a cemetery, they weep for him to vania, vania of 13 years that it jumped of the window of the psychiatric hospital.
Schizophrenia they say that it had.

Epitaph: 1972-1985

“Are the people surprised but, what does it have of rare? It is clear, so it is the life.”