What happens is that just when I thought my life was relatively normal, I had a boyfriend, good friends and stable studies, I was the world shit and he appeared to internautical help me in the solitude of the night, in the fantasies of walking down a London street luxurious evening, sad only as a Mary everyone knows it, and no, I do not intend to offend the Virgin that, God forgive me, and careless in his footsteps, his smile polite but cocky, bluish gray eyes and short hair, dressed perhaps as any mortal with a pair of jeans, a shirt wide and something to cherish if cold suggests.
Yes, because when the world turned its back on me and I had no hands and minds to grab your ass, I fell in love with Tom Felton, just as a fan knows how crazy and stupid, seeing as on YouTube video, photo Google, interviews, news. Everything was a small line of connection that someday I would know. They say that nothing is impossible, but I think that was invented by the Idealist, the dreamers like me to convince yourself that if you make enough effort, effort that deserves crazy and wild dream, one might could do it. But no. Although I imagine in that evening walking leisurely through the streets of London country, I know it will never happen, that I might never be there, he will never walk one evening only, no jeans or t wide, and his short hair and smile.
They also say that celebrities do not usually look at who is crazy about them, they are not interested in who fall motionless to his feet. Until Draco could rectifier that, yes. Those are the ones used for the moment, for "I'm at a party and I want to be with someone to meet the next day to another." No, I do not see Draco in Tom or vice versa, but I guess that disarm the ball of my story. I do not know if seeing him cry, I pass out or who knows that outrage. Sometimes I think I would like a fool standing there watching it and when you want to touch my autograph if you say my name, or else invent one out of shame that one day, if the level line and the gods we smile, remember my stupid face attached to my real name. Either way, keep me anonymous. I
a crazy fan, he a movie star beyond my reach.
And so saying it sounds a little more believable, a little Tom and Ximena, Chile and England and I, and I thin it fuller than normal healthy, he and I a Angeline Draco anyone. He's 20 years old and I 19 ... Because he was born exactly 3 months before me, one day of the month, and I dream sanardeses for that chance. The 22 have something special, something that only we know and recognize.
Happy Birthday Tom, maybe we are in another tiempo y lugar, en otras circunstancias... Y tal vez, sólo tal vez, nos conozcamos.
"Quiero que sepas, que aunque no te conozco, te quiero."
Si, te quiero ad infinitum ! ;D
Pd: We all know that his leanguage is this one, english, but mine not. Even I know a little bit about it... It's maybe a wall I've been destroying, maybe a broken wall for that big moment. Whatever. Happy Birthday Tom... All my words for you couldn't been the same in another leanguage. After all... You won't even read this.
Pd2: I'm seriously thinking about buying a cake...
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