14 de abril de 2010

Comes for everybody.

"And they say there is no fate, but there is: it's what you create".. I hope my mother was that cleaver, my father, my cousins, my beloved. That's what art is for, thank you Charlie Kaufman, thank you for being there.
I wish i knew how to be alone, how to merely exist, how to wash my hands from the guilt of leaving you and ruin it all.
I wish i knew better how much i loved you whan i had you, it's almost unbelieveble for me to feel this stupid. I'm such an ass, you're such an ass. I hate you. I hate you for being the worst goldminner! You digged me so wrong! That wrong!
I'm so fucking hurt! I'm a fucking artist, and when you don't hear and you don't see, i can make all this with my mind and my lost soul and my broken heart and travelling only by bus.

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