Dreams and Fairytales

I have something to confess, it's the kind of stuff you never tell your friends about and once you say it, you'll probably be made fun of for the rest of your life. Why do it publicly through a blog? Well, I guess that a blog is not personal unless you write stuff that matters to you. So here goes nothing.

I was the only, tanned little 12-year old kid who owned what have must have been the sole purchased copy in Mexico of (deep breath) Nikka Costa's Fairytales Album. There I said it. It's so humiliating it hurts. Little wounds of honey dripping from my ribcage.

And I guess what hurts is the fact I was a dreamy little kid and if cynicism doesn't get me in the next few years, I'll keep having an optimistic mind around good intentions and magical experiences that to be totally honest, don't know why it bothers me so much [chuckle].

I guess it hurts so much because I want to shake that corny remains inside that little kid that still reside in me and tell her about the bad stuff, about the Clockwork Oranges that will kick the shit out of her if she keeps living like that.

Naiveté seems to be a terrible mistake to live by when there is so much evidence against it. It's like fleeing on my bike against the traffic while all of the cars are yelling me to go the opposite way. Why is it so embarrassing to admit we have dreams? Why is it that when you grow up you get used to hide them from others? Is it because people may laugh at us or because raw vulnerability makes us sick or terrified or even both? 

 

(It took me forever to choose a song of this album, they all seemed so

embarrassing to post, so I took the lesser of the evil? Ugh. Heheh)