Very intimate diaries 19

My inner core is wearing out with these crazy fires of madnesses, these floods of sadness, these thunderstorms of pain and those storms of suffering.

Nevertheless, it still holds. Whatever the width, height or size, my pillar is indestructible. It’s what keeps me on the march, running; to live.

My pivot is blind; he obeys to what causes the shakes, what wants to uproot the soil where it’s sticked, deeply in my heart.

It's my radar that detects the slightest movement of my being and trying to keep my inner balance.

This center, this central stalk is unique. Some have a manufacturing defect, but all are functional.

Some say that we ourselves had already ordered our copy before using it ... Others say that these robust axes are drawn randomly as a lottery where there is only one winner.

Some are born to lead their pillar to perfection; others will not have enough of one life ...

My core braved many inland storms, but his fate remains unchanged as a lighthouse well planted in the rock. It will self-destruct when death will pick it up as a ghost ship that arise from the fog of life.