We’re becoming people that knows too much about nothing.

Sometimes I think he hates me. And I know he doesn’t. But maybe I think of it that way so I hate him a little and get myself out of this. But he doesn’t hate me. He’s kind with me. He tries to make it work this way. He smiles and gives me a hug when he sees me. He asks me about how I’ve been. And he looks at me and I die.

But he’s not trying anything. He doesn’t have anything to try. It’s just natural for him.

And he looks at me and I die. And then I feel ashamed at the possibility of anyone knowing. Knowing that the second he looks at me, I die.

El sol se oculta raro los domingos.

Likea los estados que sabes que son para ti.

I hate most people. And I don’t want to, it’s an awful way to be. But the human race gives me no comfort. I find myself turning to books and films for comfort still. It’s repulsive, because one’s life consists of people, not things. Most people’s problem is having too many people in their life. With me, it’s just the reverse.
Morrissey (via expeditum)

(Source: belfast-brawler)

(Reblogged from thepsychomad)

Negación

Voy a ir al sicólogo a decirle que mi cuerpo me engaña.
Que cuando te veo me salta el corazón.
Pero que es mentira, que yo no estoy enamorado de ti.
Que cuando te abrazo me hierve la sangre.
Pero es mentira, yo no estoy enamorado de ti.

Que me sonrojo y me río como una hijueputa quinceañera, pero que yo no estoy enamorado de ti.
Es mentira. Qué va.

Listening to JT and thinking it actually isn’t a bad thing at all to fall in love with me.

Pocas cosas detesto tanto como una canción en la que el cantante se auto alabe. ¿Acaso no les basta con sus fans? Toda esta mierda de quererse a si mismo y aceptarse y “you were born this way” y no sé qué más basura pop ha llegado demasiado lejos.

En el fondo todo el mundo quiere una fiesta sorpresa y una perfecta historia de amor.

Tengo que escribir porque sino se me saldrían las palabras por los ojos, y no sería nada bonito.