Wish ghosts were real

Toda a depressão anterior perdeu o sentido.
Agora eu sei como é.

soulmate, dry your eye
cause soulmates never die

*.log - home
*.mp3 - Placebo - Sleeping With Ghosts
*.txt - nada
*.iso - nada
*.dvd - nada

Turns out that she is REALLY dead.

E ela se vai
e leva um pedaço de mim.
Um pedaço que vai espera-la chegar eternamente.
Tomara que seja um pedaço de mim que, mesmo na falta, me deixe vivo.

Adeus liriuss.
Adeus porcelandoll.
Adeus junejones.
Adeus.
Meu primeiro e último amor.
Minha primeira e última culpa.
Da traição e da morte.

Até que enfim, você se livrou da sua pinta.
E até que enfim, você parou de ser triste.
Deixa a tristeza comigo.

E se alguém não tiver entendido, efetivamente, uma pessoa morreu. De verdade. Não é poesia, é morte mesmo. Das que doem e ficam doendo. Das que fazem eu querer me matar mais do que sempre quis. Pra encontra-la ou só pra parar a dor. O que vier primeiro.

Seu suicídio teria doído menos do que saber que você estava vindo pra cá, (com a mesma esperança que eu estava, de finalmente ser feliz) e nunca vai chegar.

*.log - home
*.mp3 - Camila - Emergency
*.txt - "coisas que me disseram quando eu morri"
*.iso - nada
*.dvd - nada

The cicle of my wall



It's not like I wanted something new.
I want something old.
I want that relief
that can only come after a purge.

I'm hungry, but I'm not in the mood for eating.
My fingernails are growing, but I'm not in the mood for trimming them.

And the person I tought I could count on,
is dead.

What am I now? Just something between what I used to be and what I am going to be.

"I don't need no arms around me.
I don't need no drugs to calm me.
I have seen the writing on the wall.
Don't think I need anything at all.
No. Don't think I need anything at all.
All in all, it was all just bricks in the wall.
All in all, you were all just bricks in the wall."

*.log - home
*.mp3 - Pink Floyd - Another Brick In The Wall (Part III)
*.txt - none
*.iso - none
*.dvd - none

Same old S.O.S.



But with brand new broken fortunes.

I could blow everything up.
But, what the hell, why do I care?
There's no guilty when you're dead.

Even now, in the final hour
I'm falling in love
Again
Again
Again.

And for each day I survive
I learn more and more
how to disguise.

'Til the day I blow everything up.
No one is anywhere to save me.

*.log - home
*.mp3 - Morrissey - Life Is A Pigsty
*.txt - same
*.iso - same
*.dvd - Peur[s] Du Noir

Prove me wrong (I beg you)



It's kind of unffair, people have limits, you know? But what about me?
How can I know the limits? If I'm inside the boundaries or out? The simple act of asking would put me away from the possible limbo where I am?
And that is me and my half-filled glass. Don't ask about my pessimist view. Walking on the line. On the border line. And what about my limits? Do they get to be dependent from the other's limits? Who decides which limit is the pattern for everyone to follow? That is a power that no one should have. But some do. I've read a story about a woman, a poetry, who threw herself from her parent's apartment, on the 8th floor. She died. And she wanted to. And someway, she managed to do it while everyone, including her loving parents, didn't noticed. What about me? What if I do something like that without my own notice? How can I know my limits? And how can I know which limits in my life is in your limits? Well, I here, throwing up all this. Throwing up like many do after drinking, I do after thinking. Many fell bad in the day after. I know how I feel and how much time this bad feeling (the baddest, you'd only know if you felt) lasts. And, hereby, I fear my next attitude. One knows what one says. And I have to take their words for granted. Simply have to, just because. It's not loneliness, it's desire. For a change. Like always. At firt, I thought I needed any company. And for that, I went. Then, I changed my mind and went for a good company. Then, for knowlodge. Then, for money. Then, for all togheter. Always thinking that I wouldn't achiev anything, ever, even the others enumerating all of my achievments. Always thinking that, in the end, the only thing that would please me was dying. I still do think that. But sometimes, my mind play a prank on me. And I see a beautiful face, and all the bad feelings go away. That untill I get an anwser. Positive or not. All the shit come back. One time or another, my wish to die comes back. It's on now. Even if my future actions give me positive anwsers, I know, in the end, it's all the same. There's nothing you can do, and that's my challenge to you. Not because I want you to try, but because I want to be proven wrong. I don't believe I will, but I'd love to.

*.log - at class
*.mp3 - Arrigo Barnabé - Clara Crocodilo
*.txt - J.J. Benítez's La Rebelión De Lucifer
*.iso - Puzzle Quest 2
*.dvd - Buried