Life has never been easy.

Life has never been easy. Sometimes I find it hard to get up early. Not to mention the moments when my heart is so awake that my eyes do not know how to close. Sometimes I sleep to forget the pain, and sometimes I can not sleep for too much love mixed with longing.

Finally, I know that in the last few days I wrote sadly. My friends called me to ask me if something happened. I told them not. It's just a heartbeat. He gathered so much and all over it was a lid that led to an explosion. An explosion of tears and pain.

• Here? You are always cheerful and lively. You were strong, and now you can not ... Why?

• I was and I'm strong, but not for me, but for others. I am full of life and cheerful for you. If I stopped smiling, I think we would condemn our world to sadness. I do not want to be a sad friend, but a happy one, no matter how difficult I am. The tears keep them in the heart, and when I wipe off yours, it's as if I wiped out my own. It's a kind of unwritten pact: I'll cry for myself, and I will smile for you too.

My heart began to write therapy and healed slowly. If I do not write it means I'm dying slowly. Do not scare me when I write so sadly that the stones are also crying. I'm afraid when I see that I can not write anything. That moment in my soul is deserted. Pain of joy and joy. They forgot me.

Dear friends, do not call me when I write sad, because then it means I'm curing myself. It's my method of moving forward. Call me when you do not see any of my writings anymore, because then my heart may be able to go to a hole ... Save me!

The pain comes and goes, just like joy. Everything is a matter of circumstances and moment, but we can make the difference. I always thought life was a way. Flower road, only some are wilted, others full of vitality. If you know how to look, even dried roses are look-good and good to put in a vase that you put on the dining table. It's all about perspective. You can sit beside the wilted flowers believing that they will return to life or you can wipe out with tears of happiness the flowers that are still colored and alive. Do you cry death or celebrate life?

I have chosen to take small steps. Today I have gathered the wilted flowers from my heart and put them in the kitchen. I'm still standing next to them and looking at them. I realized they were gorgeous, because there's half my heart. Their thorns, leaves and petals are parts of me, the joys that have turned into memories and wounds that have become precious scars today. Today I'm staying here, but tomorrow I'm going to the real flowers.