A Dream Is Only A Dream (Marzo 2005)

What do you think about yourself? The answer is not so easy, it's not a reason to laugh at the fact that I'm too busy. I could only tell you my dreams, my nightmares, but not what my life means. I was five when my grand-father died, for years I wanted to see him again, for hours, for days I cried, and so I started from where my grandpa began: I wanted to be a footballer, with his help until I became taller. Three years ago, when I was playin', my leg broke; for about one year I stopped playing, of my brother I was the joke. After two months I was sad, because I was scared my career was at the end. Then I continued to play in a team, to win a cup or a championship, my leg was hit from a dark beam, and a little champion was destroyed like a sheep. Now my nightmare is reality and my dream is on the floor in fragments. My dream is another, simpler than before, I want to be happy, but suffering no more.