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Before Madness in D Minor

First presentation of "Madness in D Minor", a book I am about to publish.


'm on the road to recovery: Tonsillitis now turned into a sore throat. On the other hand, however, I can not sleep ... Today I'm going to buy the tablets of valerian, however, makes me nightmares lol: /
we'll see ...

Breaking Out Before Your Period Starts

tonsillitis oh yeah!

Heal me please. do not take it anymore: (I do

What Does It Mean When Someone Taps Their Nose

blablabla

the unbridled libertinism hours

♥ I cut my hair because I look Fantaghirò. But I do not know how to cut. In fact I wish I had them long, but so are just unwatchable haha. I think I do it again the ridge. Since I have still not short enough I should have no problems or do they stop?
haha \u200b\u200bI have no idea.

I thought myself this weekend and a half weeks.

I with 'Love does not want us to do!
Enough with all these useless nonsense!

Wrapping Paper Storage Bin

The lack of a hug without thinking. Unspeakable abyss of eccentric postures.

Abyss.
unspeakable.
Eccentric.
Posture.

I recover from this disease called love. Soon
a psychiatrist! A psychiatrist!

Cd 12 Bloody Cervical Mucus

kann ich sein tödlich

The Gauloises are good and have won first place in the ranking of my favorite cigarettes!

That strange voice, that voice strange. Sterile, aseptic.

And if suddenly exploded and just talk?

They told me that writers can not speak for us, as we like is impossible. Yes, because we write. We are writers and not speak. We use the breath just to breathe.

And writing is so beautiful, but I understand that not everyone likes writing, prefer speech to writing. I prefer a book to tell me to love me than words, insecure, unstable, forgotten.

and blablabla. I'm sick.

There is a mosquito that I swear if I still rests on the skin will kill her!

The title of the post is due to the inscription on cigarettes: smoking kills. rauchen tödlich sein kann.

And I kill.

My lyricism I'll keep it only for those who will appreciate it then. ♥ Fuck

Are Roulette Machines Rigged

Friday 13 & a packet of red Gauloise

I have to open again, maybe I suck haha \u200b\u200b

However, today I woke up - at fifteen - with good humor!
It was raining hard, and oh my God how much I had missed the rain! Then I took to sleep with a blanket for a week and I missed that as well! Now
Dorothy sleeps with me and I would like to kick - sorry animal - because we take all the space! But at least it keeps me warm.
And the mornings are growing cold
♥ Yes, Yes, Yes! Come autumn!

And the desire to escape is growing. Then maybe who knows, tomorrow I will stay at home and not see anyone. Because I'm a borderline
dick. Change mood and personality without even warning, without reason, without anything!

I decided that I must make an effort and speak.
But I call and he does not answer the phone switched off -.- "

There are still some doubts to be clarified, but give it some time!

and blablabla I'm Scazzi.

Best Beginner Dirt Bike

I would fly away.

I thought I had the strength to write about today, and instead, as soon as I sat at the computer and open the Word file, I went for inspiration.
Perhaps because there is silence, for my continuing to speak and leave no room for my thoughts of flying. I need to fly, yes.
Perhaps because my heart hurts so bad that I would write only for him, for my heart, to redeem him from this pain.
I have no desire to do anything, not even to eat, I do not have the strength to do anything, I sleep all day, go to sleep early - if I may say so because the two are in bed - and wake up at sixteen.
not even know what to say. I have this empty that fills me, I closed my mouth, screaming in his ears and closes his eyes.
I would like to save. Flying high. Via. A gull and then off on the water, toward the sun, the moon, reach the horizon, become a party. Fly away.

Lacunar Infarct Left Thalamus

I would love

But he is afraid of suffering.

I've never been good at carrying out of relationships, of friendship and love. I've never been good at this. Maybe because I never nothing to offer to others. I have nothing. are empty.

And I want to change me because I know that I'm not right. I'm a wreck and I have to be changed, adjusted. Why then the others do not know what to do with me, the 'atypical , how to behave. And this makes me sick, because I would be easy, I would, really. But how do you change?

Many say that love is built step by step, brick by brick, a little 'me and a bit' of the other. But I do not believe it. I do not think that love is built. If there is there from the start, or maybe after some time, as if something or someone suddenly opened the windows of our minds. The air coming in, life, colors, flowers.

And there are silences those who would become an explosion. I hear them in and I gnaw the heart. Why I want to talk but I have nothing to say. Why are empty. So better not to ruin the lives of other people with the endless lack of values \u200b\u200band feelings that lives through me. Better to leave.

confined in a room, in bed.

A bed is not think, could only dream of.

Where is the much-vaunted love? I've never seen. You sure?

I have this heart that wants love and is not capable, he's afraid of suffering.

Love is a mental illness.

It must heal.

Columbia Missouri Monopoly Game

this heart that I will serve on a platter. The main course & in the room with Emily Dickinson.

Another night and I have a headache, sore heart. Yes, it hurts my heart.
The days have become infertile. But I recognize the beauty of the morning. I would like to live in one of those houses you see in American movies. Made of wood. And spend the morning on the porch reading a book, drink tea or write. While the trees create a play of shadows on the grass and the birds sing. Idyllic it?
Maybe one day I can lead a life like this. Peace. Because now, yes, I know the peace, but it's like a distant goal, yet to be reached, I see in movies, drawings, art, but not in real life. It's like a fairy tale. Utopia.

Today I slept all afternoon, until seven and a half ago. I woke up a message that I was stunned. An unexpected surprise.
When you came to my house almost did not believe it, looked in the past years since we met. And I did not know which side to do as the past we have had. This week is the existential questions of right or not right that we pursue this story already troubled from the start. But as you know, I do not like things easy, I prefer the difficult roads, the ones where you have to walk for hours, clinging to every hold for fear of falling. And perhaps it is not fair to continue so, but I do not have the strength to let you go because you want to. Here with me. I want you forever. And sometimes I seem to be too many. To be tired. Not to be enough. Not to be right.
Because sometimes I look in the mirror and think that it is not. What I'm not the one with which you should be. I am destined to be alone. Shut myself up at home as Emily Dickinson. Write. Read. This is my life. The reports should not even touch me. Yet I have this heart that loves and would love you. It's almost a disease my love. This insane desire to annul it with you. And there are things
I really can not tell you a voice and I'm sorry. I can not speak. I am made for silence. They are made for writing, the lyricism and poetry of the impossible love novels, fiction. Yet I love you. With all my heart.
And there is the beast that still belong to you and would like to eradicate it as a tumor, by tearing your flesh as if it is stuck with his teeth.
You will serve on a platter. It will be the main course. This love decomposed. That should leave room for new flowers to grow freely.

I would like to grow. Toward the sun. White as a lily.
But my roots are still too fragile.
And I'm on the sidelines.

Vancouver Bob Punching Bag

& a hole in the bathtub.

I'm tired. Maybe I should stop carrying out this life as a vampire. Yet I can not go to bed at a decent time - and I mean decent time eleven and a half - no. I'm going to bed at five in the morning, I wake up at seven and a half because my sister had a fight with the bus for ten years and then I want to be with. I sleep until noon and a half because I have to go to take him home. I eat and I sleep until two and a half because - what a fantasy - I have to bring it to work.

Then again I sleep.

And at night I write on my notebook. Yesterday I finished one and started another.

write four things at once, beautiful is not it?

And the holiday homework I have started - if I may say so - yesterday: I read one chapter of the book of German and I left there.

I want to read, but I'm too tired. I can not get out of bed before five in the evening. And this situation I am getting tired of wasting.

Tonight is the night of San Lorenzo and I'll just stay home.

do not ask too much.

Perhaps your silence and eyes. A

your embrace.

I would fly away.

PS: The title of the post is because today is the plumber came and made a hole in the bathtub.

Maxine Cartoons On Retirement

1910 (Intermezzo), Federico García Lorca