It's amazing how I have to write to understand what I'm feeling. And not this kind of writing that I'm doing, like describing. But more like writing by the "part" that doesn't rationalize. Like this:
It's full moon and my mind is already on the other side. Feelings mixed together with reality that doesn't apply to me but my body and I lost on a grand dilemma of life: Stop and die for eternity comfortably with another by my side or continue this magic odyssey that I've created from being held as a prisoner, as a son, in a family house. There's no right or wrong for me any more, everything that happens it's beautiful because it happens, because it's life. But feelings are wrong inside, raw and just by writing they get free by me, in me, for all to see or, in this case, read. There's no weak (catholic) guilt and no one to blame since it was I and this mine of intuition that made me be like this: cold hearted wise child that lives to tell, lives to say that exists, but most of all lives to live. Reality that I see is beautiful because it doesn't have to think like I, so it's beautiful, so it's like nature. Even if it's ugly, even if it's wrong or bad. Lover and friends that I lost so dramatically a long, long time ago made me do this trip inside of me because I've always been too weak to live outside of me. Till now. Things change, things change. But. But the past comes to my present time now and I don't know if I prefer what I've created from it or what did he became with time on his own. Such phenomenal mysteries that I have too choose now. Decisions... How I hate multiple decisions. Because I always decide undoubtedly by intuition, I cannot mess with reality, it's not my field. Well, yet again, it wasn't... Times have changed. I don't know who I am but my intuition does. Body and soul. One or the other. Is it such and absolute dilemma? Maybe so, maybe not. I know now that I can no longer run away since in some way I've ran all my life away. Do I actually feel? Is it that I gave up feeling? Always repressed because I come from a heritage that feels too much, so they all marry to die together unfeelingly... I've suffered all that there is to suffer and nonetheless I feel that I never really suffered nothing because I always suffered alone. I'm so curious about all that even suffering is interesting. I've always caressed my self while suffering. So much so that nowadays it's ok. Life continues and as Rimbaud once wrote, long time ago, "The only unbearable thing is that nothing is unbearable". Be ok with passing time and always believe in falling in love again. I think that's it. Because only love can join all this mysteries and live with this body and mind that is you(rs).

Well, it was describing... But it's a bit artialized.
I think I understood it.