Difference Between Polyp And Myomas In Uterus

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I live in my own world. A world full of wonders, diverse mythical creatures, who do not even have a name and talking fish, which I call floating fortune cookies because they are the only way to entertain in this Glückskekssprache, the little wannabe philosophers. A world where hippos on the purple trail (which lead directly to the cobalt Bergen) prance, do not get caught in their opulent ball gowns and make it to recite poems while still in reverse. A world, sitting in the armchair Münzkobolde in fungi and the next Travelers wait of them tells a little story, which they then listen rapt, while the Mandarin sun reflected in their golden eyes. A world where the dart, the mice in the dark through the streets, creep quietly in homes, in children, and then whisper very gravely, fairy tales into the ears of sleeping children, until the blue moon sleepy Mandarin sun its place leaves and disappears behind the Wisperhügeln , where the darkness witches quietly dreaming of foam ants soufflés, as they gather in the woods dark cress. A world, growing in the books on trees, bushes and shrubs in lyric fragile, often even on the nastiest. A world of foreign languages that taste like vanilla pudding, such as the violin music smell and sometimes downright digs under the skin, word for word.

It is the most beautiful, the most flamboyant place I can think of. And the darkest.

This world is black ink. Me to eat. Lets me forget that it is not reality, it steals my time, my heart and sometimes the mind. This world is made of fire, the burn-my words, I should forget, the silhouettes of my past can be resurrected to shout at me, tear me, and bite themselves and others into the shade until it is eventually dissolve completely. This world denied me sleep, she races stands still and it never will. This world screams insults towards me, stoking fears that makes it difficult for me to leave the house, turned me into a crying child who is sobbing under the covers and begs that calm the mind itself, only for a few minutes. It takes my breath away, sometimes over months, but what it does to me, she gives me again. What they destroyed, after even more impressive. Only I forget in the dark moments. Always.

I love it in my head (and I hate it) but I no longer allowed to live only there. I can not forget my other life, I want it do not forget. And for the first time I need it not to forget.