Expresión lingüística lateral.
I never really dared to start writing in a different language. I think maybe because I was afraid of not being as expressive as I would be in my native tongue; which is silly, because other languages give more oportunities to find new sounds, new ways of expressing feelings. Languages make the imagination fly and start creating new emotions. I feel newer colours, smells, and picturing newer places thanks to the flexibility given by this utterly new way of dropping letters on the paper as if I was intending them to be tears falling down my cheeks. It’s inevitable. I’m back to writing. And it’s something I thought I learnt to grow apart from, but that’s the second silly thought, because I knew from the very beginning that writing is part of my definition. Writing is part of this tall, skinny dude, who loves the career he’s studying, who’s curious about everything literature related, who’s pursuing love for some time on the past months, and unluckily the night falls over me; who has hope in this tiny, gigantic, and contradictory world of all of us, living creatures. My love to writing is just standing so tall nowadays I can’t even imagine how I can use any word of any language I might learn in my stay in this life. I feel rather happy with what I accomplished so far being so young, but I can’t help feeling the emptiness of the unloved alter ego who lives in the darker corner of my heart. I still feel so many travels I must do, I still feel so many places I must visit, I still feel so much love I must give, and I also still feel so much love I must be given and, nonetheless, that is still not happening, and the impatient stubborn brain with what I was born with doesn’t want to wait for longer. The longing feels sometimes hurt, and I think a lot of people can resemble in this aspect to what I feel. I am clearly human, and I clearly want to feel loved. I want to share and give what I got to someone I don’t know and feel the happiness of this other, who doesn’t exist nowadays in my life. In the meantime, I try to distract my mind from trying to put me down and look forward, and start walking along my own path, discovering and risking me for finding the joys of this whole situation so-called life. I shouldn’t be so afraid of new experiences, and in top of that, I know I’m confident enough to not be afraid of such things, but these multiple people living inside me drive me and make me think differently from what I genuinely feel in my reasonable way of thinking. Although when it comes to love, there’s no reason or logic involved that could help me anyway. And, actually, I like impulses from passion from time to time, like daring to write in other languages, and let the words spread through the paper, and my feelings flowing in this lateral way of expressing themselves.