Thursday, December 20, 2012


      So I was reading about these tips on how to imrove your writing. They said to write, even when you have nothing to say (which I do often). Right now I'm delirious. I have a lot to say, I don't know where to start from, I don't know how to start.
      I don't know whether I'm happy or sad. But the point is, I decided to write everyday, for a week, and also write one paragraph per day for my "book" (yes I actually have a book I've been working on since June 2011 -actually I worked on it for about 3 months, but hey! I wrote about  20something chapters...
gee, I don't even remember. Time scares me- Anyway, due to stupid writing rules, a parenthesis shouldn't be bigger than the actual text so I shall end this).

       I'm listening to happy break up songs. I love happy break up songs. I think it's really cool to write something that sounds positive and happy, when you just had your heart broken. I never do that, I belong to the miserable part which whines all the time.
So, it's almost Christmas, and I'm excited as always. I'm living in hell right now, but I don't mind that much. Worst case senario, I will eventually lose it and kill my rabbit (yes, yes, that's the first victim).

I'm not sure whether you're getting good energy from me, or bad.

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Estoy aburrida

I wish I could write a song. 
But instead I end up writing
crappy texts in which
I whine all the time. 

(there it is I’m doing it again!)

I like lyrics that rhyme. But I suck at rhyming. I’m having an existential crisis again. Like, what am I doing here, why am I here, where is my life going (girl’s gotta be a drama queen from time to time).

I always seem to have a plan, but I really don’t. My plan is a sketch. It seems pretty good, but it’s not really clear. I have no focus whatsoever. I haven’t made any big decisions yet. Hell I can’t even decide if this is going to be a serious blog, or just my personal diary. I keep telling myself it doesn’t have to be either one thing or the other. I don’t know whether or not I agree with that. 

Anyway! Instead of focusing on this blog, I will focus on myself... but maybe focusing on this blog, IS focusing on myself. Then again, maybe not…maybe I’m just procrastinating…

Now that I think of it, instead of focusing on myself, I’ll take my sketch and go focus on something meaningless.

Sunday, October 14, 2012

Nowhere to be found

This is our city.
The concrete moon illuminates our deepest scars.
And the stars, each one shines bright for every love that was in vain.

I walk these seemingly empty roads.
A short story is all I’m left with.

“There once was a boy whose age was eleven,
who once got a taste and he thought it was heaven.

That boy got greedy; young as he was, he got flattered.
He fell off his cloud, his mind then just scattered.

There once was a girl that swallowed the pieces
forever she cried for the boy that she misses”

The story ends. The roads remain empty. I go home.

Monday, October 8, 2012

Like I swallowed half my stash

Credits go to:

       A friend of mine calls it writer's block. Even if I did consider myself a writer, this seems to be something way bigger than writing. It's a general block.
       I feel sad. A different kind of sad. I feel detuned actually (not sure if I'm using this world correctly, I used google translate [not trustworthy I know, but I'm not a dictionary person, sorry]
{actually no, I'm not sorry} {{talking to myself agaaaaiiiiin}}).
       I want you to love me forever. That makes me demanding. I say it all the time. That makes me weird. I actually expect you to do so. That is what makes me crazy.
I don't know how to continue this text. Someone's been stealing my water lately
(also makes me sound crazy).

I promise to love you forever. Even when I hate you.
I'll just keep talking to the camera until you get back.

Monday, September 24, 2012


And what if you surround yourself with people that love you to death?
Would you say it’s a gift,
or a curse?
How could you possibly not disappoint any of them? How much love can you handle in the end?

How much weight... until it crushes you?

Sunday, August 19, 2012

My boots are too formal for the jungle and too casual for the city

So I’m back.
In my bed.
Throwing ashtrays to my newest cat to stop him from chewing on my earphones, which he threw on the floor. Lazy? Could be.
Just to be clear, I don’t mean big glass ashtrays; more the cheap, very light ones.  I don’t want PETA to be visiting any time soon.
Where was I? Oh yes. No, this time, it’s not laziness; I’m not allowed to stand, due to a spine injury. I can hear all my readers gasping and crying, shouting “why” etc, etc. Ok, just my 3 readers… who already know about my situation… so no real drama here I guess.
As you have probably already realized, I have nothing to say (stating the obvious since 1992, can’t help it). And I don’t want to write about the fact that I can’t write, because it’s cliché.

So the obvious solution would be to end this piece of… art. *smile*
But I don’t go for the obvious. No, I’m just kidding. I will end your suffering. For now.

Tuesday, July 3, 2012


       The old fish died. I know it did, although you deny it. They replaced the aquarium. They bought a better one. The rest of the fish are missing. The whole restaurant is missing. A part of me is missing too. I don’t care to find it though.
     September came, and you left. 
And then you came back again. And then you left again. And then you came back… again. No need to mention the third time that happened.
I left too. I came back again. And then left again. And then came back again. I can’t recall if there was a third time.
      I didn’t believe in fate, until I met you. I still don’t believe in fate, but I’m open to the idea. You wished that one day I’d love you without fearing you. I still love you with great fear. I don’t fear your absence. I fear the potential truth in your words. 
All I ask of you is to love me forever.

"While I was busy waging wars on myself,
you were trying to stop the fight.
You never doubted my warped opinions
on things like suicidal hate,
You made me compliment myself,
when it was way to hard to take"

Dedicated to the man with the icy sense of humor, and the politically incorrect perception of colors.

Monday, June 11, 2012


Right now, all the songs in the world wouldn't describe my feelings for you.

And right now, all the kisses in the world wouldn't quench my desire for you.
The world begins and ends with you.

The wind whispers your name.
I wonder how many terraces would I have to jump to reach yours?
Just to take a peek, just to hear you breathe.

Where are you, my beloved?

Friday, June 1, 2012


Credits go to:

-Why do you constantly seek pain?
-It’s the only real thing there is.
-What about love?
-Love ends in pain as well.
-So you say it’s just a transitional stage?
-More like a happy break.

Love burns. Love sets you on fire and watches as it smolders your inner being.  Love is madness.
Realists can’t fall in love. No matter how much they want it. Or can they?

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

The end of the world

This city bleeds.
Came back after 30 years. I found nothing but ruins. 
They say in this life we stand alone. They're wrong. We stand together; together with all the wrong people for all the wrong reasons, and that's far worse.
Somewhere in the crowd I see you. You hold a ticket to New York and a jar of marmalade. The only smiling face in a sea misery.
In the end it's us that will run away. Not the friends, not the lovers. Just you and me. "Undefined" is the best title.

Trust can only be built. It isn't there to be won. And no matter what they say it can always be rebuilt somehow, sometime.
Me? I always want the unattainable.

Promise me eternity or burn; burn like the magnificent star you are and take me down with you.

Saturday, May 12, 2012

May 12th, 8.32

I crawl through life like an empty shell.
I do things just so I can buy a little more time. So she won’t point her finger at me and accuse me of being useless.
I try stuff just to “see how they are”. I try to love, I try to be in love, I try to care, and when I fail, I just smile and say “I’m sorry, I told you I’m not good at this”...  And I leave.
I use people with their own consent.
Pain is contagious. It’s like a little virus that sneaks inside of you when you are vulnerable. I’ve breathed pain into a lot of people. Without knowing it, without wanting it. I’ve dragged them into darkness and left them there.
Responsibilities make my life useful. People make my life interesting. They provide me with the drama I need.

Everything is fine. But not good. No. Things haven’t been good.
You see, there are some people that just aren’t meant to be here. The damned ones. Damned to live mediocrely, love mediocrely, dream mediocrely. These people don’t deserve to be here.

My biggest fear is that I’m empty. I don’t want to want to be alone. Please.

Thursday, May 10, 2012

Oh dear, look what you've done

12 am, I’m listening to a song.
It goes well with a cigarette and a drink.
Too bad I don’t smoke.

I guess I’ll just have 2 drinks then.
Or maybe 3.
4 and I’ll call it a night.

5 am, I’m listening to a song.
The bottle is empty.
I’m still sober.

Sometimes I want to drink the whole world.

I want to drink you too.

Oh, my playful mood.

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Whining vol. 100000000000000

       The rare times I get the chance to feel something, it’s usually negative. It’s either anxiety, or anger, or confusion.
I have to write something. Something good, something deep, because I’ve neglected my blog lately and my millions of viewers are going to be disappointed (just kidding, I have none). I’ve started so many documents, I’ve lost count. None of them is good enough. This is not good enough.
       Some call it writer’s block. I call it uselessness. But maybe I’m just oppressing myself once again. Maybe I have to let myself loose. I wish there was an easy way to do that… or any way.
I should be typing right now. And I don’t mean this. I should be typing my assignments, which I should have completed by now. Or at least started…
       My mind is elsewhere. I don’t know where, and frankly I couldn’t
be less interested in finding out.
I can’t say I’m sad, I can’t say I’m too happy. But mostly I feel restless. I feel the need to do something but I have no idea what that could be.

       To cut a long story short, I don’t know anything (so you really needn't have read all this nonsense. Wow, this is the first time I use "needn't"... and it's probably wrong. Never mind, nobody cares, jeez). And this sucks (I mean this, the text). Not good enough. But then again, nothing’s really good enough for me. Who cares!

Saturday, April 21, 2012

Wicked game

A scribbled note that said my name. 
I loved it when you said my name. 
The way you said my name. 
A heart next to it. 
Next to numbers. 
Numbers that added up to nothing; 
numbers that confused me. 
19, 20, 21. 

Maybe it was fate. 

coming here, 
talking to me out of the blue. 

Forbidden words that flew out of your mouth. I caught them all and put them into a small cage. Words you never say to others. Words that show stuff maybe I wasn’t ready to know. I remember everything. Every single touch, every suggestion, everything we did together. The part where the parallel lines met; where I was in your future plans. Where I wished I was solid. Where am I in your plans?

I never called you my friend. Maybe because I didn’t want us to be friends. Because maybe, just maybe there was something more to it. Maybe it was just a fling; or an idea; or me wanting something different. Maybe you were what were going to save me. It was just that this time, it was more than just the outside. 

January passed, February passed. Now I’m left with that cage. I don’t want the cage anymore. It’s over. I thought I could start calling you my friend. I think you left though.

And your eyes were the size of the moon once.

Thursday, April 5, 2012

A letter to Rome

You say love, I say lust.
You say flesh, I say soul.

This is hell.
Hell with just a pinch of heaven,
yet enough to make me love my suffering.
And every night I reminisce
how your presence gets me drunk
and your aura makes me sick;
sick with desire.

Such a plain word for such a
terribly wonderful,
wonderfully terrible,

How many confessions does it take for you to fall in love with me?
How many years before my thoughts take shape and hunt you?

You have sucked my innocence and twisted my mind.

And every night I crumble into million pieces and they all land in your heart.
So twirl with me into the darkness.
Eradicate my existence;
for I only exist in your sighs.
Then drink my soul so I can forever be yours.
My last words shall be the whisper of your name.

From all my vices you were the most injurious.

Dedicated to no one.
Inspired by no one.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

She wanted perfect and she got the perfect nightmare

          And then the girl fell in love with the idea. The idea of the boy she didn’t know. The very mystery of him. She had been chasing the fairytale for so long she finally found the perfect candidate. 
          Time doesn’t lie. Soon it turned out he wasn’t the perfect candidate. But he had already casted his spell on her. She was the perfect liar. She made him think she didn't care. And there in the vortex, drifted by her own insecurity she took the magic and turned it into a sick competition. She took more terms and put them into the equation. Then she took the equation and altered it from what could have been a good story, to the recipe of her own catastrophe.

And then she withdrew unable to handle the chaos that the boy had caused in her life.

         The boy didn’t understand. How could he understand? How could he have known? She never showed.
        This is a sad story. This is the story of the girl that fell in love with the idea. But she didn’t fall in love with the boy.

Friday, March 23, 2012


Time had expired but I was still looking deep into your piercing eyes. I could stand it. From that moment I knew it was over. Your presence wouldn’t cause any trembling or any of these strange reactions in my stomach anymore. My soul was somewhat too hard for you to cut trough. Your razor blade touches couldn’t harm me anymore. 
No. It never felt like love. More like mutual suffering of our own uncertainty. I can't say for sure.  Because you see, my dear, I was made of wax but you weren't made of fire. 

All I wanted was to drown you into the abyss of my reality.
But after all dead roses can’t bloom.

I’m sorry.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Emotional pain-o-philia

I associate with pain quite often. Over the years I've learnt to embrace it. I willingly dive into the sea of despair whenever I get the chance.
I teeter around total destruction and leave just as soon as I get a little taste. It's a game I love to play.

The risk of causing irreversible damage excites me far too much.

Great pain purifies you. It shatters your being and leaves you in ruins. But it's the freedom I'm after. Freedom that few people have had the privilege to know. This hollow emptiness. You see it's really quite simple; you're free because you're empty.
If you were to charge me with emotional suicide I would plead guilty. I've killed myself a thousand times and I plan on doing it again.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

De tal palo, tal astilla

They say I'm liquid. I'm never there, I always slip right out of your hands. But then again they say I'm very solid. You can always count on me.
They say I'm superficial. I pay attention to unimportant things. Yet they insist I can always see the good in anyone.
I'm a highly controversial and misunderstood human being.
Both for myself and for others.

I always claim that I'm not lonely. I'm alone. It's a matter of choice. Recently a girl in a movie quoted that. Which bothered me, because I wanted it to be my invention. But then again in a world that's 4,5 million years old it's rather difficult to come up with something entirely new.
But what was the point of this document? Oh yes.

One thing I can't seem to be able to learn, is forgiveness. I cannot forget therefore I cannot forgive. For me these things go together.
I'm not a very difficult person. You can do a lot of things to me, and I won't mind. I have little expectations, therefore it's very hard to dissapoint me.

But there are certain things you will do, that will simply break the deal. 

You broke the deal several times. No, no. You smashed the deal. You broke it into little tiny pieces, burnt it, and threw the ashes into the sea.
Yet I dived into the sea and found them all. I gave them new shapes and hid them into parks and chinese restaurants. But you found them again, and you blew them away. And again. And again. And then I let them go.

Because we can't live surrounded by ashes.

The thing is, you deserve a second chance, and  I need to grow up. I have talked about it with myself and he doesn't seem to mind, so therefore
I forgive you.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Riddle me this, riddle me that.

Original Picture by:

Where there is a will there is a higher chance to get disappointed.

When it comes to love, romance to be specific, I'm a toddler. I take small baby steps and whenever things don't go my way I fall down and cry, refusing to go on.
I don't want to risk getting my heart broken, so I break everyone else’s.
Truth is, I don't enjoy relationships to the fullest, but I enjoy them to a certain point which is really satisfying. And that has been my love life until now.

“If you come now, it will be too early, if you come later, it will be too late.” said She in February the 7th , pretty sure that this was the way to end a kick-ass story (that story never ended obviously).

“So when should you come actually” wondered She a month later.
Maybe in a month. “I would but I have a lot of classes”
Maybe during the summer. “I would but I will be away for 2 months because my Visa expired. Yes, yes I'm from Peru actually”
Maybe in a year. “I would but it’s the year of the ostrich and church doesn’t allow me to risk anything… this year” (or any year to tell the truth).
Never is the right answer. Don’t you realize? There will never be a right time.
I’ll never take that leap of faith.

All I'm trying to say is that sometimes all you need is a little push (or a big one, in my case). 

Sunday, February 26, 2012


Triangles are too cliché.
Nowadays I prefer polygons. They’re far more interesting and they are sure to fuck you up.
You see, with triangles you can never be sure.

Don’t you see? That’s what everyone seeks today. Pain.
It’s the 21st century and depression is the new black.
Such a fucked up generation.

Monday, February 20, 2012

When the sun goes down.

And then it hit me. Why are my biggest dreams, things that I can’t achieve?

It’s all about fear. I don’t like a lot of things.
It’s the fear that one day I will be left with nothing to achieve. And what is life if you have no goals?
“The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.” said Eleanor Roosevelt.
My life is nothing but a series of unavailing pursuits.
I like saying “I want to do this, I want to go there”.
The thought alone, of me wanting something so much, makes me happy. That’s why it doesn’t really matter if I actually do any of the things I say.
Because it is sometimes, quite often really, that I know, that if you leave me to rot in this room, alone, forever, I won’t really mind. I’ve been there; I’ve stayed alone for months.
And sometimes I wish this wasn’t true. I wish I wasn’t so sure that I could make it alone.

I hate easy things. Whenever I achieve something, happiness stays, but just for a little while. Then I want to achieve more. And that’s why I fill my time with “musts”. But they are not really “musts” they are “wants”. The desire not to think about all these. The desire to feel I’m actually doing something.

And I think people should know that. But then again I don’t want people to think I’m insensitive. Because I’m not. But then again this all doesn’t make sense.
But then again isn’t life itself so, oh so controversial?

Saturday, February 18, 2012

The Wheel of Time

And sometimes, it's no ones fault.
It's the things that could have been done and the things that could have been said. The thoughts that should have become sentences and the feelings that should have become actions. The sleepless nights that could have been phone calls and the shiny days that should have been walks. But they weren't. And no matter how much you try to rationalize your accusations, you can't put the blame on someone.

We are all different. We do the same things for different reasons, followed by different thoughts, and different desires.

Sometimes things fall apart, people drift away, and if you don't do anything about it when the time's right, it's over. In the end it comes down to this.You either try, or you don't. There's no use in thinking about it later. Let it go. Stop torturing your mind with what-ifs, and whys.

There is always next time.

Sunday, February 12, 2012


Was it all to waste?

Gazing at the night sky
under the moonlight
that dresses up the sea
faithfully every night.
And the world
so, oh so small
just a crowd of
seven billion lonely faces.
An inch of poetry
a handful of stars
a little bit of forget me not
make up for the perfect love potion.
A scribbled note
that I drown into the ocean.
"You can't find peace in a battlefield"
And as your promises ring hollow
I realize
I can't stay.

Forever promised to the dark.

Saturday, February 11, 2012


And it's the brief moment you open your eyes, and you ask yourself "Was it all a dream?". And then it hits you, like a bullet, straight to the heart.

It wasn't.

You refuse to get out of bed. But then you hear movement. You hear voices. You hear the birds.
You realise that the world keeps on turning. You don't care. You want it to stop.
You want to get down.

You look at your phone. No phone calls.

I would live for you. If you lived with me. Because right now I'm as good as dead.

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Mental Masochism

Cry my child, cry.

And hate yourself with passion, because no one will ever hate you as much as you do right now.

Torture yourself. 
Think of all the things you did. 
All the people you hurt.
All the mess you made.
Because of your own insecurities.
Because you were just bored.
And repeat it all again in your head.

And hurt yourself. Hurt yourself because you can't seem to understand that this isn't your playground.
Because you have to learn the hard way.

And destroy. Destroy everything. For you deserve to be left alone.

Monday, February 6, 2012

You don't believe me, but you do this every time.

If New York was inside of me it would all be shattered by now. I could feel it crumbling.
The Empire State building would have turned into dust. Brooklyn bridge would be nothing but a pile of scaffoldings. Our favorite park would be covered with plaster.
You hit again, like a hurricane, but this time I wasn't prepared. 

Dozens of nights trying to convince me for all the things you denied today, within a minute.

It was warm when I met you. I was frozen.
I was looking at the sea, you were looking right into my eyes.
You saw things that night I can't deny. Somehow you knew me.
You turned my world upside down.

I tell you everything. Every single embarrasing, sick, twisted, deranged thought I have.
Never before have I loved someone so much, in such a short amount of time. 

You are the first thing I actually put effort into keeping. I raised my voice, I expressed my desire. I didn't just sit there and wait for things to happen, like I always do.

Why can't you see? You are my exception.

Friday, January 27, 2012

Things left unsaid

I'll stample on your promises, and build walls so you won't come in.
I will try to escape change, but change will always catch me.
And then I'll sit there until I adapt to it. 

High on ego just like you.
We could go places you and me.
Ease our troubled minds.
Spent so much time trying to convince you I hated you, I ended up loving you.

There is a huge gap between what I think and what I say.
There is a huge gap between what you say and what you mean.
You used to break walls. 
Now you just plant flowers on the outside.

Gave you the key to my heart, but you lost it.

Fuck you.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Existential error

There’s a thief in my closet and a murderer out my window.
Every night, the thief creeps out of the closet and steals my thoughts.
Every night, the murderer sneaks into my room and kills my feelings.

Every night I wait there patiently, waiting for them to finish their jobs.
Watching them as they tear apart every inch of my mental world.
Every night I line up the pieces of what’s left behind.

And every night they come back.

And every night I pay them to do it.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Surprise, sometimes, will come around

       As I quoted before, whenever something ends, a part of me dies. It doesn't matter if that "something" starts again.

       It's the end of an era. With the end of 2011 came the end of our relationship as we knew it. This is a new beggining. This is new for me and, strangely enough, for you too. I' ve never worked on a relationship that was this damaged before. I considered it a waste of time. Maybe it's you, maybe it's the new me.
     While looking back at the course my life has taken, I realise that sometimes, if you're patient enough, things fall into place. You don't always need to push situations. There is a thin line between success and failure on which we are tiptoeing. If anything, you have taught me to sit back and watch life take its course, until the right time comes to interfere with it.

Time does wonders. Love does to. Athough not enough, it's essential.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Which is colder, winter or ice cream?

       There are days when you want the world to pause. But there are other days when you don't care. You just want to disappear for a while, and the world to go on, until you feel ready to come back again. And you want no-one to notice you're missing. 
      And there are those other days, when everything is so simple. There are these moments of clarity when you can see it all. 
It's like a perfect pattern, laid out in front of you. Suddenly everything makes sense. It's like an epiphany. 
And suddenly, in the blink of an eye, it's all gone.
      When nothing goes right, go left they say. Well, you can't go left if you have to go right. 
      Bailing out is not an option. But then again staying shouldn't be one either. There needs to be a place for people like me. Think-aholics anonymous. It's not the truth I can't stand. It's the lies they dressed it up with. I'm tired of troubling my mind. I seek balance in a world that won't offer it. I stopped demanding from people when I noticed they were not capable of meeting my expectations. Why can't I stop being so strict with myself as well?
       It was one day at the dinner table when my sister wondered out loud "Which is colder, winter or ice cream?". It was a moment of epiphany. The question was totally irrelevant. It was a question I could answer, but it still wouldn't make any sense. I realised, that I wouldn't get answers until I started asking non- generic and non- irrelevant questions. It wasn't the answers I had to work on. It was the questions. 

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

You want the sin without the sinner.

       It's a pity.
Above all, it's a pity that everything I fix, I can destroy with equal ease.
Which means I'm practically useless. I just give hope, and then steal it back, like it's a precious possesion of mine.
       It's been a week since I returned.
As I try to rehabilitate myself and gather my scattered thoughts, I find nothing but obstacles. Obstacles I put there myself. Myself.
       Since recently I've been feeling like the whole world is my playground. And I'm the spoiled brat going around kicking the other kids into the sandpit. I pull the strings and when I don't want anyone around me I demand so. And when I'm ok, I give the sign for everyone to come back.
What I probably needed, was good slap, which I got twice the past four months. Which made me think, that I shouldn't be so selfish. I was so blinded by my ego, I hadn't even noticed I was that selfish. Ever since, I've been working on it. But still, when they give you the power it's hard to resist.
       As I'm listening to placebo, and looking out the cloudy sky, it's becoming clearer to me that I don't want to face the world today .

Saturday, January 7, 2012

Feels like you lovE him more, than he loveD you.

      I still can't seem to understand if the latest decision I made was due to my self-destructive attitude, or my self-protective attitude which is close to zero, but I try to increase it.
      It's so sad knowing you're only one call away. But you seem happy, so I'm not having second thoughts about what I did. Or maybe it's your selfishness. Who knows.
      Whenever something ends, a part of me dies. No matter what it is. It happened in November, it's happening now. What's different, is how big this part is. Seems like I'm the only one who can revive it, but I can't find how. I'm killing myself on the inside, and I'm happy about it. And since you're not here anymore, it's much easier.
There is a part of me though, that wants to be saved, I think. The part that gave you the 1000th chance, which you threw away gladfully. Because you see, when this was the other way round, there wasn't one thing I wouldn't do. But still, we are not all the same, now, are we?
      So I sit here whining about it, not knowing if I would want it any other way. Correction. Not knowing if any other way would be good for me.
sadly, you wouldn't even lift your finger to find out for me. Sadly.

What a pity... 

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

These games you play

There is great pain in this world.

It leaks from its cracks, and floats in the air.
It pins stars on the sky every night.
It swallows your dreams, and drinks your hopes.
It twists your reality and it gets in your way.

And everyday you feed it with your destructive ways.

You see it decorating your notebooks and your songs.
You sit next to it on the bus, during your classes, your work.
You try to avoid it when you're walking down the street.
You hope it doesn't notice you. But it does. It always does.

And it laughs at you as your soulless side takes over.