Onomatopeia imperfeita

Today has been the most unperfect day of all days... Just the half of me, just the half of everything, just the half of joy... I'll try to get used to my halves, to my unperfect days, but something tells me all days from now on will seem blurred in comparison to some recent perfect moments. Main feelings at the moment: homeless in my own home, lifeless in my own life... In the meantime I am a blood shot in a white canvas. At least I sound less perfect as a piece of art than as a piece of a person...