The window

See the world through a window. A world that I spend a good time imaginating myself there, being one of its inhabitants, pretending how things could be better, not necessarily perfect, just a place where I could be happy, but it’s a world that I don’t belong, distant, impossible to be reached, and just because a damnful detail that prohibits me to belong to it. I’m just part of the scum, a mistake, an anomaly that is always iluded trying to be equal but knows that never will be, no matter how many times I try. Sometimes I get an acceptance, a false acceptance, just one more illusion on a life without a purpose, where felicity is a myth and the pain is sovereign and endless. What left now is the wish to pass through this window, even on dreams, inside a deep sleepness where no one could wake me up, and although I know that nothing of that would be real, I wouldn’t care, I just want to stay there and never come back.