Blue, Grey, Unknown.

A lonely thought runs across my brain
 Lost in those perfect, mysterious eyes
 Endlessly shaking when holding your body.
 Now I want you here once more, before I die
 A desperate sigh begs for an extra second

A wonderful stare in a beautiful afternoon
 Leaning into my arms once more
 Earning a few more kisses
 Nothing can ever compare to this quiet storm
 A little bit more of your touch, please.

So i guess it's time to Face it
 Honestly, I don't want to leave you here
 Exactly, I can't take you with me
 Ranting I am, because I can't stay near.
 Echoing the memories
 Dear, I think you should escape with me
 Endings are not as good as I expected
 Kissing you would kill me, but I want it
 A wonderful death in your arms, I can see


Iwantyoutoholdme.

about a girl.

I met her on a rainy day of August.
Her semi-curly hair, half wet, and her big smile of joy about the new things to come for all of us. It seemed like being away from home would be the greatest experience of our lives.

Perfectly enthusiastic... Laughing out loud on the bus. Listening to my music with faux or maybe true interest.
Now I feel like a dying poet writing his last piece, because I know that every smile we shared, that every moment of my helpless melancholy will not be forgotten (not by me at least).

Now you are in front of me, and I wish I could stay with all of you instead of,coming back home to feel screwed and uncomfortably sleepy... Sharing our hilarious misery was cool, dear: you, an idealist geek with a nice sense of fashion. Me, a disgusting human being with information "that no-one cares about" to give.

I can't say I'm sad of this experience. I'm just concerned about the fact that distance in own country is big enough to keep us away for a long, long time. IT TOTALLY SUCKS to feel that I won't see you soon once I get home

I confess I'm attracted to the way you plan your dreams, your future; although I can't see myself living a so-perfect life...
I'd love to share a bit of your happiness in London, or Paris, or wherever you choose to move to. You've got the will of achieving great things, you've got the will of reading thousands of books... You have the mood of swearing every time you feel that some hipster/romantic/mystic quote was absolutely amazing... You have to show me that beautiful grin of surprise when some new song hits your brain.

You'll be the ruler, maybe not the queen-bee; but you'll lead a generation of stronger minds, with wider horizons, with positive vibe.

I love you.

"Thoughts on Living Abroad"... a load of love, sadness, pride and shite

I consider myself lucky for having the opportunity to share this now. It has been a while since I arrived to New Zealand and it has been a while since I left home, which sounds really obvious but is not as easy as it seems, is in fact a whole different situation: Arriving here means a new world to discover, new friends to meet, more things to do, different ways to waste your money in the most expensive city ever and, of course, a new chance to learn how to love and respect other cultures. Leaving home means relying on the possibility of finding happiness, believing that things are actually going to work, that everything is going to be okay, although is easy to find out that things will not change just because you left and now you are “doing your life” in another country.

Face it: – it is time to, I guess – as soon as you get back home things will be as messy and confusing as usual, or maybe even worse. If there is something that I have learnt while living abroad is that bad news hurt; just because is true. No matter how far you are, no matter how long you will stay away for, there will always exist the chance of feeling weak and succumb under homesickness and guilt (and feel sad because people can't handle their sexual needs).

Why did I choose to leave? Because I was sick of being in my city, because I was sick of seeing the same guys from my Boys School every single day, because I was tired of that soporiferous atmosphere in the bus on the way back home. Because I did not want to talk to my parents anymore, because not even the cigarettes that I smoked there (of cheaper price and with less prejudice) or the people I met, or the parties I went to, nor the friends that I loved made me feel alright.

I was also tired of speaking in Spanish, although I recognize that my English skills are yet limited and sort of basic. I really want to improve and “own” this language, because the only things that you do well are the ones that you like doing; and I am absolutely in love with English, it is something that I discovered as a joke when I was a Naïve, little kid, and now is one of the most important things in my life. It really “opens the doors” to a new world, but I am not writing about the “economical” or “social” meaning of these “new chances” I am writing about a better way to express myself, without limits, with no fear of being judged.

Weird things happen when you are outside of your country. You realize that all of the details that you used to hate about your culture, all of those little things in your society and political system that used to annoy you, are now fun facts that you can use to make friends; What a paradox! It is really fun to exchange swearing words (if only they knew what “conchetumare” literally means…) and costumes with them (It was shocking for me to find out that there is no such thing as “kissing cheeks” to say hello to a person of the opposite sex that you barely know.), and even more hilarious to see my Mexican friends using the word “Weon” instead of their typical “guey” (that means dude or mate in English, only between friends. In other contexts it may sound rude). In another occasion, when my Colombian mates left, I remember the 3-hours-long conversation about what it means to be Latin-American; trying to find the reasons why we are so unhappy in our own places, and how this trip to “the other side of the world” made us find the real worth of being American… Juan Fernando said: “We’ve been through so much exploitation and abuse, and no matter all the shit that has happened, all the dirty politics. We still there, smiling, fighting and dancing. We are the people of the most beautiful region ever, we should feel proud of it”

Nonetheless, I am not so sure if these 3 months away from Chile helped me to “grow up” or made things any better within me. I am still the same anxious, fucked up, impulsive, hurtful, sharp, arsehole, academically smart, with zero emotional intelligence and semi-successful young man. Not much has changed.

A friend in Chile said once: “We are like the sand: we just go where the water and the wind lead us, taking new experiences and learning new things, I hope” (she was such a pseudo-philosophical poet). And maybe she was right. Although I have not improved at all, I learned to accept our differences as human beings, found friendships that stay “through thick and thin” with you, and had lots of laughs and tears and rises and falls… and that means more than anything else I have lived.

I do not think I will come back to New Zealand soon, although I wish I could; but I am definitely excited to find new destinations far from home. I like the feeling of being a “no-one” and getting stressed in the attempt of meeting new people. And let’s admit that I also like being missed in my city. Nobody screams as loud as I do in my classroom, nobody plays the guitar at 5 a.m. during New Year’s Celebration.

 

#Shithappens

#3andAHalfWeeksLeft #Sadlife

 

*note: Almost no contractions (don't, weren't, ain't, etc.) were used because this was for an English assessment (of course I didn't add swearing words in the actual work, except the Spanish ones).

 

  

Identify Yourself

A liar that never existed, beliefs falling apart... We are all coming undone, nobody cares that much.
Two shadows under the bridge, two shadows behind the football goal, I'm aiming for your hands to hold me, your mouth to steal air once more.
. - pull yourself together, man.

"pleading for this pack to make me sick. NO words can describe this massive mess. Thirty seconds without oxygen, twenty more and you'll be dead"

My so-called life keeps me thinking that this is not the "me" I used to love to be. But, why am I complaining? At least I don't have to witness your addiction, at least I won't have to watch you fall.
- he, the one with the greatest self-confidence ever, feels confused by random words, coming through his mind.

"two shadows in a car, cuddling on the backseat, two tears for the balcony, No love saved for the bedroom"

I talked to the Holy Ghost and got no answer. Days after, "do you still believe in me?" He said. I couldn't answer anything, I didn't have the guts to lie.

So now that his days here are fading away, now that home feels so close. He guesses there's nothing left to prove, but his own will to stand still with his eyes opened and the crooked smile.

you only live once they said. Thanks to the world that I still have years to get screwed, to lie, to be disappointed, to be condemned and regret after a while....
. after a while .........
................ After a while, after a while
after a fucking while

- how long will it take?

Breathlessness, the poisonous kiss and the 40 steps to the room

... As long as your mouth is closed, you'll still be fucking beautiful. As long as you keep your breath away from me, I will be able to breathe again.

kill me... Because you really know how to do it. I've been your slave for quite long, and I actually hope you remember how it feels to run out of air, because I wait for that feeling to have my hands around your throat until you beg for me to stop, choking on my cum.

I'm sorry if I sound so rough, but I don't want to stick to the happy, glorious days with you. Please, let me desecrate you.

-she was there, lying on the sofa, planning a selfish revenge.

I used to love you that much that I let you burn my skin and take over my thoughts so easily... I didn't think it was a mistake to show myself so vulnerable.

As long as your mouth is closed, you'll still be fucking beautiful. As long as you get the fuck away from me, I will be able to rest again, or rust and decay if you want me to.... I don't really know. Pushing boundaries never felt so cruel.

So now that time has passed so fast, we should know that "the moment" is about to come... Nonetheless, I want to avoid your shining smile yet.....

DO I DESERVE THIS??

-she was there, crying and putting her soft hair on my shaking shoulder.

I'm not high and I wish I was, cause thinking about this makes me feel so obsessed; and we all know that "obsession" is such and ugly word, that my brain is going to melt as soon as I cut my lips again.

Fainting, over-caffeinated once more... Waiting for my end to come as fast as possible.

As long as your mouth is closed, and your fingers quit texting me, you won't win or lose any beauty... But I will let this go while my lungs are filled with this light, toxic smoke.

Distorted feeling of pleasure

"the ground shakes, under my feet/Wish I could feel her fragile skin/Drowning alone, forgive my sins/Her blinding eyes fill the air i breathe"
So i wish i could ignore this utter feeling of desperation. This darkened atmosphere sends shivers down my spine... I'm shattering my lips while healing my blackened lungs, contaminated, rotten by smoke from your lustful, bitter mouth.
The scent of revenge has taken my blood, my hands shake as write this pathetic love-letter to you.

Just to set things straight: I'M NOT YOUR FUCKING TOOL... I'M NOT YOUR DECOY... Not even your fucking set of marionettes.
you can't own me. You can't control my thoughts, nor my reactions when i feel you close to me. -I'm lying... You can control what i feel.

"as your soft and cold skin pierces through my bones/my brain strikes and then falls apart/i can't manage that joy in me... The carnal desire is bigger than anything... I want to possess your heart, your flesh, your dreams, till there's nothing left - i will consume you.

Pathetic, my love... Isn't it? I can't even cry now, this deep, long-lasting taste of loneliness got me used to this feeling, i still can pretend my mind is not wandering and wondering forever.
A truth: I want to die... Cause you stole my last breath and now even a little atom of oxygen could break my body down, girl.

Slit my throat with your razorblade... Laugh as hard as you please, take my life and cut my lips for the last time, because i need to taste you.



"so now, let's lay amid the shadows/ just sleep beneath the cross/ Your skin will be my haven/my head will soon explode."



But losing my head means nothing, you silly sausage, i wanted you so much that i can't feel another skin... You blocked all my senses... So i couldn't want anyone but you.

my bed feels like quicksand
I can't sleep - bite my neck
Hold Me - Kill Me
Even though i knew it was a lie - Lick my wounds and let me feel your lips asphyxiating me.
Hold Me - suck my blood...
Or go and leave me to die - Give Me Eternal Sleep.

PRAY FOR ME, YOU SINNER
i will find you in hell.

. ....... ... .. ... ... .. ... .. fuck off, i feel Great today.


plastic vision, aire líquido.

Nevermind

She was there, trying to remember what happened last nite, while he was somewhere else lying on the grass, trying to forget the same.
No one ever thought that kind of things could happen. But he was there, exhausted, shaking on the floor under the influence of the worst drug in the entire world: Happiness.

Why does he want to forget, then?

Happiness is vain when based on superfluous events. It fades away as soon as the kiss stops, as soon as the warmth of her body disappears... Because miles away, in the middle of nowhere, someone else is enjoying what once was his all.
What happens when you're not strong enough to make things work? To face the truth? Or most important: what happens when you feel you can't quit? When you can't fight temptation?

Your brain feels sick with every memory, your arms beg to start bleeding, that sempiternal sensation of nausea takes over your body... Now you really wanna fuck someone else's life up... As if it was their fault, don't you? .... Although you know the shame is on you, even when you can't feel guilty anymore.

That long embrace, so simple, so innocent... It's not exactly what you expect when you feel this sick. He was so tired of using and being used that he wanted to keep on going...
To be honest, we never learn; we don't want to.

When pain dominates your body, the only way to keep it close and safe, the only way to avoid feeling miserable, is using it as your "raison d'être" ... If pain made you happy once, it can do it twice, "thrice", forever... And that's not a shallow kind of joy, then.

Those bloodshot eyes, the bleeding knuckles, the wounded lip, the swollen face... Is just the start. You can't feel well when the pain is only yours... Spare a bit of it, you idiot!! Make them suffer as much as you do!! Make them cry and beg!! .... But be careful, you tramp. Don't take it as a revenge, just let them experience the catharsis... Let them feel your very own disgrace.

"I've been crawling around for a while after years and years wandering... When you're close to the ground there's no fear of falling down. Remember: the higher you get, the easier you fall down and shatter your bones... If you keep your hopes high and disappointment strikes, where will you find the solace needed? If things don't go as you expect, who will save your broken heart?"

...Teach them to survive, show them the way to hell and back... As she falls asleep from drinking too much, he lies on the ground and suddenly smiles.
Blame is just a game, you'll be her demise... As long as she's happy, the sun will shine bright.


Fuck. I lost my mind again.

Miel y Saliva... Crimen y Castigo

Abandonnez tout vos sens aux plaisir, qu'il soit le seul Dieu de votre existence, c'est a lui seul qu'une jeune fille doit tout sacrifier et rien a ses yeux ne doit être aussi sacré que le plaisir

Lindos Pechos... Linda Boca... Lindo Rostro.... 

Ella yace desnuda sobre la cama en una cálida tarde de Verano...
desnuda e indefensa gimiendo de dolor mientras su amo vierte la rabia y el deseo sobre ella.
ella recorre su cuerpo buscando placer en el consuelo de sus manos sobre su vulva...
su piel arde... el cinturón ha golpeado duro su frágil piel... su mente ha sido avasallada por los gritos de odio ficticio y las humillaciones premeditadas..
Ella muere con cada golpe... cada vez que las manos de su amo aprietan su garganta, ella gime de un placer enfermizo ... cada vez que las manos del amo golpean sus mejillas ella grita de júbilo y sorpresa

El miedo sustenta su locura... y la locura es fuente infinita de placer.

El teme dañar, pero ama la satisfacción que recorre su cuerpo con cada temblor de la frágil piel de su princesa...  aquellos espasmos llenos de sufrimiento alimentan su ego y le entregan pensamientos por los cuales merecería el más cruel de los infiernos...

La carne es débil... aún más cuando la mente pide caer.

Ella llora y protesta.... pero sabe que desea mucho más... el amo complace... el amo manda... ella solo recibe... su vulva húmeda y sensible recibe al amo gustosa y tranquila... el dolor vendrá luego...
Sodoma se desatará en unos segundos... las Ganas son interminables... la sangre hierve... la respiración cesa.

Tu seras toute la lumière cette nuit

As The Sea Breeze Hits My Lungs, It Takes Me Back To Where I Belong.

Hace casi un año, en la gélida arena del mar en invierno.

Ella dice que las personas somos como la arena del mar.... viajamos y vagamos constantemente buscando respuesta, recolectando ideas y dolores, conociendo amores en "cada puerto" al que llegamos....
Me dijo que la arena del mar no es siempre la misma, no podemos contar con que estará ahí por siempre... "al menos uno de los granos de la playa que vez aquí, estuvieron alguna vez en Japón, o en Madagascar... ¿quien sabe?"
Al parecer la gente es igual: Cambiamos con el tiempo, nos adaptamos constantemente, la gente nos deja huellas a menudo.

Pero si somos como la arena.. debe haber algo en nosotros que permanezca igual, algo que nos permita identificarnos desde el primer, al último día de nuestras vidas ....

OGRE

Screams, Guitars, MUSIC!

Desde los inicios de la humanidad los sonidos se han empleado para la comunicación... el gruñido en su forma más básica es un indicador de amenaza... animales y humanos lo ocupamos por igual...

Personalmente lo uso como forma de expresión máxima... cuando hay rabia, no hay nada que unos cuantos gritos no puedan solucionar... 

Si la pena abunda un par de Chillidos lo arreglarán todo... 

Lo estridente me llena más que lo melodioso .. amo la tranquilidad pero me gusta contemplar el desorden... me gusta sentir el alboroto a través de mis cuerdas vocales, proyectándose hacia el infinito... causando molestia, agrado, risa, rabia, temor...

Las cuerdas me acompañan hace unos cuantos años... no me gusta alardear sobre mis "capacidades" en ella, pues siento que me he estancado y no soy el indicado para hablar de habilidad... a pesar de ello, la Guitarra se ha convertido en mi segunda novia, mejor amiga, consejera y esclava... me gusta torturarla, sacar sonidos desagradables de ella... rellenar atmósferas de pasividad y de locura... 

Se vuelven parte del instinto de supervivencia, una suerte de válvula de escape y cetro de la creatividad... me gusta perderme en la agresividad de los sonidos... en la armonía del "tarro".... 

Vodka, Fressco y la Caña Interminable.

Primer año en el colegio... hacer amigos no es un muy fácil para un niño como Mush;

desde un principio todos han dudado de su sexualidad sin conocerlo

Quizá por su aspecto, quizá su forma de hablar... es algo que ignora, aunque todos se lo han dicho

En medio de las Fiestas Patrias, una semana completa de decadencia y celebración

una junta de los "precisos" es la excusa ideal para experimentar con la Hombría... 

con el poco dinero que logran juntar entre los 6 chicos surge una ideal fenomenal

Balti: Weon! Compremos cualquier weá?

Ese "cualquier Weá Cosa" indica un peligro inminente... 

un Vodka sin etiqueta, una bebida asquerosa, un Cooler de mala muerte, cigarros de mala reputación y el entusiasmo adolescente.

Nadie se atrevía a tomar de aquella botella maldita, un brebaje tóxico resultante de la mezcla de un licor con sabor a perfume barato y un sucedáneo de Sprite. solo Mush se atreve a beber..... 

el higado ya no lo aguanta, la cabeza gira y gira... 

Mientras caminan divisan una pequeña cancha del sector... entran .. juegan como enfermos, corren... caen ridículamente.. caminan en círculos y vuelven a caer....

Un guardia los divisa a lo lejos... ellos, no lo notan de lo ebrios que están...

al ver la luz de su linterna corren y corren por su reputación....... de pronto un grito distrae a Mush... Él

cae estrepitosamente contra la acera... con el peso de sus 65 kg sobre su mentón... sangra y no lo nota... está tan ebrio que no lo siente... 

Sus amigos orinaban sobre las ventanas de un coche estacionado....El Guardia Corría Hacia Ellos...

Queremos Cumbia, Queremos Rock And Roll!

Superficialidad y Pseudo Empatía.

Me aburre encontrar gente que no aprecia o reniega de la superficialidad.
ultimamente todos apelan al discurso de "No! Lo que Importa es lo de Adentro"
y resulta ser la mayor de las mentiras.
La superficialidad es parte del ser humano, no podemos deshacernos de ella... no podríamos sobrevivir si nos faltase.

Al ver un callejón oscuro... ¿prefieres "explorar" su interior; o decides no arriesgarte y especular sobre lo que podría pasarte dentro?

Prefiero quedarme con la impresión primera... he pensado en la importancia de conocer a las personas... pero he perdido mi tiempo tratando de entenderlos... tratando de ayudarlos.
Elegí entonces alejarme de los pseudoempáticos; aquellos que dicen que te entienden, que van a ayudarte... que "sienten" tu dolor

•  ¿Por qué mantengo distancia? 

Porque todos sentimos de manera distinta, porque no me conozco lo suficiente y ahora creo que nadie llegará a conocerme en realidad.
Porque todos mentimos para generar simpatía, para iniciar amistades, para conquistar a alguien... (no digan que nunca lo han hecho... la autenticidad es casi un pecado en estos días)
y aunque quizá la ayuda sea factible, y las sonrisas puedan disminuir el dolor... nunca podremos comprender en un 100% la alegria, la tristeza o la decepción en alguien.

I'm sick of meeting people who denies or despises Shallowness, lately I've seen a lot of guys and girls saying "No! It's What Inside That Counts! but, it appears to be a great, great lie.
Shallowness is part of being Human, we can't throw it away,we can't survive if we don't have it.

When you're about to get into a Dark Alley... ¿do you "explore" what's inside it; do you Speculate about what's going to happen if you walk in?

Fuck asdfasdfasdf 

Earl Grey (Part I)

• Humo y Saliva.

Se conocieron cuando ella (Grey) no aprendía a sentir.
Se Encontraron cuando el (Beer) no sanaba de sus profundas y horrendas heridas.

Ella... joven... una niña alocada e inocente
El, un imbécil, un "vividor" (A medias, pues nunca se ha sentido vivo)

El estaba Fumado... cercano a las galaxias desconocidas por el hombre.
su mente daba vueltas y sus ojos distorcionaban la realidad.
Su boca seca y sus ojos enrojecidos... quizá por el llanto de noches anteriores, quizá por el humo del Cannabis Cigarrillo... y sus manos temblorosas a causa del frío.

Ella, risueña y rodeada de sus inmaduros amigos...

Grey: Hola? Como te llamas?
Beer: Ehmm Beer, y tu?
Grey: Sophie... dime Grey...cuantos años tienes?
Beer: 15... y tu?
Grey: 13... soy pequeña

Se conocieron... conversaron... quizá se conocieron muy rápido... al cabo de 2 semanas habían comenzado a acercarse demasiado, prometieron lo que no podían cumplir, se amaron con locura, ella le entregó todo... el reservó sus miedos e ideas... quizá no la amaba, pero no quería herirla.

• Kairaku, Kairaku, Kairaku... (Pleasure, Pleasure, Pleasure)

Her skin is soft and white as falling snow
her lust explodes like hell between his hands
She moans and begs for more and more
he won't stop until they both reach the clouds in Heaven above...

Placer, placer, Placer 

Alcohol, Cars and Destroyed Reputations

19 de octubre hace un par de años

Él (Nuevo) era un hombrecillo de 14 años viviendo en una ciudad nueva.
No hay Amigos de Verdad, no hay pasatiempos, no hay amor por la Ciudad.
conoció a una chica por Facebook (Alma) y se interesó en ella.

Hablaron y hablaron hasta tarde por un par de semanas...
Súbitamente, empezaron a sentir cosas...

Fue a una fiesta con algunos "amigos" y un montón de gente cool y algunos "revolucionarios"

y el Estaba Borracho... Hecho mierda... Tanto así que estaba casi solo en el patio con un vaso de cerveza en su mano, y un cigarro en la Izquierda.
una Mina viene...

J: -Oye! Dame una Quemá?
Nuevo: -Dale, Tómalo...
J: (toma la mano y se lleva el cigarro a la boca)
Nuevo la mira, se acerca y comienzan a besarse.

Y de repente un Tipo grita:
(Nacho) WEON! HEY! POR QUE NO SE METEN A CULEAR TENER SEXO AL AUTO?

10 segundos después Nuevo y J estaban Fornicando dentro de un pequeño, incomodo y frio "city car"
15 minutos después la Dueña de Casa (Warhola) les pide que se bajen del auto...
... Así que continuaron su lujuriosa y patética escena dentro de la casa... mientras todos dormían.
Ni siquiera se conocen... dudo que recuerden sus nombres.

20 de Octubre.

Todos ríen, y Nuevo no comprende por que... hablan de un Vídeo, de una Chica con la "regla"
el está asustado y nervioso...
Cuando se levanta se entera de la cruda verdad... MIERDA! LAS SÁBANAS ESTÁN LLENAS DE SANGRE!!  

... y ahora, la chica que "ama" sabe que durmió con otra ayer...

October 19th... a Couple of Years Ago

He (Newbie) was a 14 years old Little man Living in a New City.
No real friends, no hobbies, no Love for this City.
He met a Girl on facebook (Alma) and he had a Crush on her.

They talked and talked until late for a couple of weeks
Suddenly, feelings started to grow up inside them.

He went to a party with some "friends" and a lot of cool people and some "Revolution Guys"

He was Drunk... so pretty, fucking drunk that he was standing at the backyard with a Glass of beer in one hand, and a Cigarette in his Left...
A Girl came (J).

J: -Hey! Gimme a hit?
Newbie: - Sure.. take the cig!
J: (holds his hand and puts the cigarette in her mouth)
Newbie: (Stares at her...)

They're Getting Closer...
... (Sudden Kiss)

Then Some Guy Screams:

Nacho: HEY! WHY DON'T YOU GUYS FUCK MAKE LOVE INSIDE THE CAR?

10 Seconds Later Newbie and J were having sex inside this Small, Uncomfortable, And Cold "City Car"
15 minutes later the Party Host (Warhola) tells them to get off the car...
... So they continued this Lustful, pathetic scene inside the house while every single Guest was Sleeping...
They don't even know each other.. they don't remember each other's name.

October 20th...

Everyone is laughin' and Newbie can't understand why... Everyone talks About a video... about a girl on her Period... and he's scared and nervous...
When he gets up he realizes...FUCK! THE SHEETS ARE COVERED IN BLOOD....
And now... the girl he is "in love" with knows that he fucked another girl last night....

El Auto Lucía Así... No Se Como Mierda lo Hicieron.

Quitenle el Amor a Esto xdd

Coffee Cups and Strawberry Juice

Adicciones? el café es una bastante común... es cálido, es amargo en principio, pero puede acompañar los más dulces momentos; por otra parte, la cafeína es adictiva, potencia la actividad cerebral y es tan buen estimulante que puede dejarte una noche entera sin dormir...

Leí por ahí que hay gente que es como una taza de café... 

Veamos: 

• Capaces de entregar calor cuando es necesario
• con un Principio o un Pasado amargo y doloroso
• Dulces al "beber" de ellos...
• Adictivos en su esencia
• Los toleras a tal punto que empiezas a necesitarlos, se te dificulta pensar cuando se alejan de ti, no hay ánimos de nada.
• Te dejan tan activo que ya no puedes dormir, te pones ansioso, nervioso por todo... 

Mi mente vuela cuando bebo café...lo importante sería saber: Provoqué o provoco aquello en alguien? será alguien capaz de provocarlo en mi? 

estoy seguro que más de una vez mi mente voló por culpa de alguien, desvariando entre la necedad y la lucidez, entre el odio y el amor, entre el enojo y la pasividad.... pero

¿Qué te asegura que no serás reemplazado por otra taza? 

Una de té quizá... más suave, relajante.. igual de cálida y más liviana que tu.

un vaso de agua quizá... claro, refrescante, transparente, vital...

u otra taza de café... pues estarán tan acostumbrados a ti que fácilmente podrán buscar una taza que traiga nuevas sensaciones.

Dos Adicciones Recurrentes en Mi :3

Bienvenidos! / Welcome!

Bueno, Esto es lo primero que escribo en este blog (Obvio)... Según recuerdo, la última vez que tuve uno fue a los 8 años y por propósitos escolares.
Decidí regresar a Blogger por 2 grandes razones:

1. Necesito un "Lugar" para Descargar mi Rabia
2. Tengo Algunas historias que contar.

• Rabia? Por que Tanta?

En primer Lugar, Tomé un montón de malas decisiones y de esa forma he actuado durante los últimos 2 o 3 años. Como segunda razón... me siento estúpido, cero auto-confianza  y al parecer, aunque intente, nada cambia para mi.

En cuanto a las historias, Tengo varias para contar... Sexo, drogas, Colegio, amigos, algunas cosas divertidas y un montón de imbecilidades.

Esto es lo que realmente soy.. Espero algo de apoyo y algunas respuestas por aquí :3

Les escribo Luego.


Well, This is The first thing I Write in this blog  (Obvious As Hell)..As far As I Remember, the last time I had one I was Only 8 Years old and it was created for Educational Purposes.
I decided To use Blogger again for two Big reasons:

1. I need a "Place" To Discharge My rage

2. I Need to Tell Some Stories.

• Rage... why am I feeling so Angry? 

First of all, I made a lot of bad decisions and that's the way I've been acting for the past 2 or three years.
as a second reason... I'm feeling stupid, I Have no self Confidence and nothing seems to change for me although I try.

And Talking About Stories... well I Have a lot to tell.. Sex, drugs, School, Friends, some trivial things and a pile of nonsenses...

This is Who I Really Am.. I Hope To find Support and Answers Over Here.

Write to ya Later....

Canción Para el Dolor De Muelas