Extremista.




O blanco o negro.
Por ser como eres, piensas que no necesitas colores. Que desperdicio de ojos, y eso que son tan preciosos.
O bueno o malo.
Nada es regular para ti. Esa mente tan inteligente se va a la mierda...

I used to be different. I used to take it all in. There wasn’t anything I hadn’t tried.
(light a cigarette).
I had so much fun. (exhale) I was so careless. I did so many things without thought; every night was something completely new.
I was her. You know, that girl that always smiled and no matter what happened, never worried. I was never the type to frown, worry, cry. I was always dancing.
I didn’t know who sang the song I danced to. It didn’t matter. It didn’t affect me. (pause) Nothing did. I was ice.
It was like I jumped into the rabbit hole every night and into wonderland, my very own wonderland. I chased the rabbit, that little white rabbit. (laugh)
I don’t think I have to say what he gave me when I caught him.


All entertainers are just clowns in the end.

I'd swim the ocean for you, the ocean for you.




we'll travel the world together...

imagining.

Girls who survive on cigarettes and chewing gum.

Conocia a una chica que sobrevivia a abse de tabacco, chicles, alcohol y cafe.
No tenia nombre, que nombre va a tener alguien que existe en mi imaginacion? Pues cualquiera que me guste, en realidad. Pero no quiero hacerla real.
Ella era como la flaca, sabeis cual digo? La que duerme de dia y sale a bailar de noche...y yo daria cualquier cosa por solo un beso suyo. La flaca.Se notaba que estaba agusto en su piel, aunque aveces se arranyaba la carne, aunque aveces intentaba arrancarse los ojos. Veras, ella era diferente a todas las flacas, las chicas que solo inhalan humo y beben alcohol.
Ella no lloraba por las noches porque no se amaba, ella no tenia problemas familiares ni amorosos, ella lloraba porque le daba pena las personas. Se moria de asco por dentro y no sabia reaccionar a la crueldad. Nadie la veia llorar, nunca, la Flaca no se acostumbraba a dejar a alguien verla asi de debil. Pero un dia, yo la vi.
La vi arrancarse el pelo y la vi llorar hasta sangrarle los ojos, pegarle a la pared hasta doblar su fragil, debil, y pequenya munyeca. Y entonces, dejo de llorar, miro su munyeca y dolorida, cogio un cigarrillo. Se pinto los labios de rojo, se tumbo en el suelo y empezo a fumar. Me miraba fijamente, y yo, avergonzada, mire hacia otro lado.
"Quiereme." Me susurro, al oido, y beso mi mejilla, dejando la marca de sus labios, congelandome con su piel. La quise abrazar, pero siendo parte de mi, mi mente, no pude, y ella me sonrio con una pizca de tristeza. Sus mejillas estaban igual de rojos que sus labios, gotas aun cayendo, manchandola.
"Esto no se lo contaras a nadie." No era una pregunta. Yo seguia mirando hacia otro lado. Me dijo que a mirase. Lo hize.
"No puedo mas..." Y enfadada, apago su cigarrillo en mi brazo.Yo tampoco...pense. Y la borre de mi imaginacion, queriendo olvidarlo todo.

A-Z

...sentirlo, sentirlo, sentirlo con mis manos, con mi boca, con mi lengua y con mis caderas, buscarlo. Buscarlo con mi sentido del olfato, del tacto, del oido, de la vista, del gusto. Y joder, que gusto.



Quererte.

Edith Smith will be a fotografer.

good enough.

Idon't know what's wrong with me today.
Well it's been going on for a few days. I have a knot in my stomach and it won't go away.
It seems silly but it's just a downer I get once in a while, where I don't feel good enough for anything...or anyone.
I am not creative enough.
I can't draw.
I really can't write.
I don't sing.
I don't dance.
I'm not smart, I couldn't even finish school.
I'm not artistic.

I'm not anything, and today it's caught up with me. I was born with the need to be diferent than everyone else and now I know that I am not, because, well, I'm just like anyone else. There's nothing special about me.
...today I don't feel good enough for him.

Alice in Wonderland.

Actually, no. It's just called Alice, by Jan Svankmajer.
Just a few things to say about the film. Don't watch it. It might seem like a new thing, or just a diferent stylem but truthfully, it is just shite.
So yah.

kitty.

Gatita, gatita, eres mala.
Desde cuando van las chicas malas al cielo?
Tu no estas en el cielo.Tu estas entre el hielo y el fuego, lo que pasa es que el fuego arde tanto que te sientes congelada, el hielo esta tan frio que piensas que ardes.
Miaaaauuuo...
Gatita?
...miauuuw.
Otra vez tu mente se ha perdido.

good morning.

She wore a hoodie, grey. She liked grey, neutral. Her jeans were baggy and hung loose on her hips. She was smiling, her Ipod playing, soft music flowing in her brain. She carried a thick, blue marker, and when she saw a white wall, she attacked. She wrote small stories, lyrics of her favorite songs, and cute frases. Sometimes a stranger would walk by and she'd hide behind a car, laughing to herself. She was a ghost in a night, just something you can imagine walking by. Nobody saw her, maybe just a glance, but next morning, they all knew she had been walking around town that night.
One lady was walking to work and on a wall she saw "mornin' missus" written on a wall. She automatically smiled.
A girl was going to school and written on it was her favorite song. It would make her smile every morning for the rest of the school year. People all around town started doing little things to make others happy. It didn't alst long, but for a week, they girl in the grey hoodie laughed at life.

posh.

So I've been spending a couple of days in Marbella with a couple of friends at my aunts house.
Poppy, Samantha and Sergio. It's amazing here, there's a pool and a sauna, tennnis court and we have a floor to ourselves.
So we've been spending ourtimes makig ourselves usefull. So far, we've...




-used the swimming pool,
-had lunch at TGI Fridays,
-slept all day,
-stayed up all night talking,
-...and watched movies.

So Sergio found something intresting upstairs in my aunts bedroom, and now he is sitting here on the couch next to me, high. He tends to have two reactions to weed, one is to be terribly annoying, the other to be the sweetest thing. Today he has decided to be a mixture of both, singing stupid songs but also cleaning the plates.
So I forgive.

Today is nice, sunny but fresh, not like yesterday, when we went to the pool. I havn't had so much fun in such a long time. The water was so refreshing I kind of died with pleasure when I dipped in.
But today, today it's a movie marathon.
We've already watched 12 monkeys. fight club, Ocean's 11 and 300. Now we're on to Scareface, as Poppy hasn't seen it.

I love Scareface. The way Al Pacino plays the perfect character that disgusts you and still leaves room for pity, the beginning, already exciting, and ofcourse, all the guns and drugs.
Poppy looks unintrested, but she looks that way most of the time when we watch movies. She just made fun of a scene, another typical thing. Sergio is singing.

Well, to wherever it was I was getting.
Marbella. Oh, Marbella.
Palm trees, nice beaches, the restaurants are great. It's all amazing, really. I would have an amazing time, living here.
If I were a milionare.
I walk by Luis Vuitton. Agent Provocature looks about as big as my house, and it doesn't even have anything in it. Just frilly carpets and suede cloth hanging from the ceiling.
I go into Juicy Cotoure. I see a horrible yellow dress that no one would ever buy. I check the price, curiously. 890 Euros.
My dad takes us out to lunch. Since we're not very hundry, we share. I look at the bill as we leave. 115 Euros. My mouth hangs open and I want to grab the 15 euro tip he's left.

I don't understand how so many people can live here. And it's not like there's a mix, poor, rich and middle class. They are all rich. Every person I see in Puerto Banus is wearing Dolce Gabana or Betty Blue heels, it kills me. Kills me.
I mean, how can someone in their right mind use 600 euros on a pair of leopard printed heels?
That's my rent. That is my bloody rent, and sometimes my mother can't pay for it.
Another thing that bothers me. So fine, you're filthy rich, you buy yourself expensive clothes, whatever.
But you do not have to look down on me. I am not stupid because I havn't been to a fancy school.
My jeans are not broken because I don't have money to buy new ones. I don't wear gold because I do not like it. My head is shevd at the sides because I like it, not because I have cancer.

I don't like stuck up, in any way possible.

...

I need coca-cola.
It's not my fault that I drink too much of it.

I'm addicted.

spilt milk.

It’s like a morgue in here
She’s crying in the corner you’re in silent tears
I didn’t kill her, I just watched
I know enough to know love
You ruined me, you made me keen
Kept me on a line, kept me on time
Now push her to the corner, let her puke again
She’s puking hate, she’s puking hurt
She’s puking all your filthy dirt.

All you gave her was dirt
Once you are you are
And you are scum

There’s a place in the shade
That makes it okay
There’s a place through the maze
Where the sun never comes up

I made a left turn when I turned to you
It was the right way to say where I put my trust into
Give me a cigarette, just make it nice again
I locked her up, so you cant pretend
Now we know the sun has to come up
I fucking know there’s not a lot to stop
Her from crying, over spilt milk.
She wont stop crying over the spilt milk.

All you gave her was dirt
Once you are you are
And you’re not worth it

There’s a place in the shade
That makes it okay
There’s a place through the maze
Where the sun never comes up

And I keep on crying over spilt milk
I keep on crying over spilt milk.

beggining.

The start of a relationship.
I usually love these, watching my friends fail choosing guys or gals, or watching them screw wonderful realtionships up in a matter of weeks.
I've always been a good shoulder to cry on, even though it just for my own entertainment. I'm a good listener, a good adviser. But I also enjoy other people's humiliation, pain and problems.
To sum up, Gossip. Yes, with a capital G.
So this new start of a relationship is especially exciting, and I'll tell you why. It's mine. Barely a week has gone by, and me and my boyfriend, well, we've already had several fights and I've shed several tears. All of these fights, of course, my fault. I have the idiotic habbit of messing things up, and well he, he is a more demanding person than me.
I don't have much to give. I'm bossy, envious and I like being alone. Not alone as single, alone as in, I like reading and writting, watching movies and drinking tea. I'm a smoker, but then he is too.
Except, I'm the kind of smoker who get's stressed out and needs a fag.
He smokes something slighty diferent than cigarettes, something more, let's say, relaxing. This diferences us slighty, me being kind of jumpy and stressful, him being slow, or just plain lazy.
Don't think I'm not lazy. It's another one of my things that disapoint. It would never ocour to me to actually run somewhere if I'm alte, I would never get up to change the channel and it's in impossible task to clean my room.
But he already knows all of this. See, we've been living together for a couple of months now, fooling around. And then it got serious, and honestly, I couldn't be more thrilled. I love him.
The thing is, how, being as messed up a person as I am, is it going to work?
I know that I will mess it up, it's just something I instictively do when anything good happens to me.
The nerves are horrible, the butterfly's are boring holes through my stomach, and the anxiety give's me headaches.
I swear I will never, ever, enjoy another persons suffering at the start of a relationship.


Well, maybe just a little.