I don't wanna lose you
I could never make it alone

There are moments in our lives when we find ourselves at a crossroad. Afraid. Confused. Without a roadmap. The choices we make in those moments can define the rest of our days. Of course, when faced with the unknown, most of us would rather turn around and go back. But once in awhile people push on to something better, something found just beyond the pain of going it alone and just beyond the bravery and courage it takes to let someone in. Or to give someone a second chance. Something beyond the quiet persistence of a dream. Because it’s only when you’re tested that you discover who you truly are. And it's only when you're tested that you discover who you can be. The person you want to be does exist, somewhere on the other side of hard work, faith and belief, and beyond heartache and fear of what lies ahead..

Todo un mundo de cajones debajo del mundo. En las afueras de cada ciudad otra ciudad subterránea de cajones prolijamente alineados, conmovedoramente cerrados. Pero adentro de los cajones, todos sabemos lo que pasa. En las primeras veinticuatro horas, después del rigor mortis, empieza la deshidratación. La sangre deja de transportar oxígeno, la córnea pierde transparencia, el iris y las pupilas se deforman, la piel se arruga. El segundo día se inicia la putrefacción en el intestino grueso y aparecen las primeras manchas verdosas. Los órganos interiores quedan inutilizados, los tejidos se ablandan. El tercer día la descomposición avanza, los gases hinchan el abdomen y un verde marmóreo invade todos los miembros. Del cuerpo emana el compuesto de carbono y oxígeno, el olor penetrante de un bistec que estuvo demasiado tiempo fuera de la heladera: empieza el festín de la fauna cadavérica y de los insectos necrófagos. Cada uno de estos procesos, cada intercambio de energía, involucra una pérdida irreversible, no hay modo de recuperar ninguna función vital. Sí, al tercer día Cristo hubiera sido un desecho monstruoso incapaz de erguirse, pestilente y ciego. Esta es la verdad. Pero a quién le interesa la verdad, ¿no es cierto?

Sometimes I wonder if anything's absolute anymore. Is there still right and wrong? Good and bad? Truth and lies? Or is everything negotiable, left to interpretation, grey. Sometimes we're forced to bend the truth, transform it, cause we're faced with things that are not of our own making. And sometimes things simply catch up to us.

Hypocrisy.

Hypocrisy is the act of pretending.

Hypocrisy is the act of pretending to have beliefs.
Hypocrisy is the act of pretending to have opinions.
Hypocrisy is the act of pretending to have virtues.
Hypocrisy is the act of pretending to have feelings.
Hypocrisy is the act of pretending to have qualities.
Hypocrisy is the act of pretending to have standards that one does not actually have. 
Hypocrisy is thus a kind of lie. 
Hypocrisy may come from a desire to hide from others actual motives or feelings.

Sitting in this room playing Russian roulette,
Finger on the trigger to my dear Juliet,
Out from the window see her back drop silhouette,
This blood on my hands is something I cannot forget.

Clementine: This is it, Joel. It's going to be gone soon.
Joel: I know..

Clementine: What do we do?

Joel: Enjoy it.

Si supieras como sufro al tenerte como amigo, que amo tu amistad, pero más a tu cariño. Si supieras cuantas veces al tenerte a mi lado, siento ganas de besarte y decirte que te amo. Es tan grande esta pena  de no tener tu amor, pero me conformo con ser tu amiga aunque me muera de dolor.

Liquid Luck

I wanna be   

                 the sunshine

on your smile and face

"There is probably that little bird that flies through your insides and says,

'I sure would like to make a mark in life.' "

You and me and the moon

I'd give up forever to touch you

Fairy tales don't always have a happy ending, do they?

Teddy Krankenhaus

You'd better pray to the Lord

When you see those flying saucers

It may be the coming of the Judgment Day

It's never too late to become what you might have been.

In these times you have to be an optimist to open your eyes when you awake in the morning. 

"I think it's dark and it looks like rain," you said.

"The wind is blowing like the end of the world," you said.

"And it's so cold, like the cold if you were dead," and then you smiled for a second.

"I think I'm cold, and I'm feeling in pain," you said.

"And it's all running out, like the cold if you were dead," and then you smiled for a second.

Sometimes you make me feel like I am living at the edge of the world.

"It's just the way I smile," you said.

There's little in taking or leaving. There's little in water or wine. This living, this living, this living was never a proyect of mine.

Memento homo, quia pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris

One Perfect Rose

I get the best feeling in the world when you say hi or even smile at me because I know, even if it’s just for a second, that I've crossed your mind. 

I love walking in the rain
          because nobody can see me crying...

Ideas that you'll never find,
all the inventors could never design.


The sign that I couldn't read,
or a light that I couldn't see.


Some things you have to believe,
but others are puzzles, puzzling me.

No, he's giving us rope - so that we'll hang ourselves.

They say we leave this world just the way we came into it ---- naked and alone. So, if we do leave with nothing, What then, is a measure of a life? Is it defined by the people we choose to love? Or is life simply measured by our accomplishments? And what if we fail? Or are never truly loved? What then? Can we ever measure up? Or will the quiet desperation of a life gone wanting, drive us mad?