Sólo lanzo las palabras
Sólo lanzo las palabras, las palabras
Sólo pensé que somos nuestra historia y al revés
Tengo la arroba atragantada
Ya ves, son llaves
Y si crezco me convierto en Peter Punk
Si no me entiendes, no te entiendo, y al revés
A volar a volar Peter Punk
Now, more than before, I think about growing up.
Are we up?
I remember talking about plans for the future, school activities about writing letter to your future self, and I now realize, perhaps, that I am now my future self from then.
Or maybe not.
I don't feel too different. Of course some things have changed a lot, but in the end I'm still that freshman naïve girl talking about revolution. Maybe more than a year ago.
That also got me thinking, in my nerdyness, that it is perhaps a trigonometric-periodical behaviour. Maybe being college freshman is not as different than being a highschool freshman, or at least I don't feel it that way.
So, well see... I'll try not to forget about this experiment, for once.