ESTO NO ES UN BLOG
fuck. I need to be there someday
(via hrrrthrrr)
janicosas
“ Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses. You build up a whole armor, for years, so nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life… You give them a piece of you. They didn’t ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn’t your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like ‘maybe we should be just friends’ or ‘how very perceptive’ turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It’s a soul-hurt, a body-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. Nothing should be able to do that. Especially not love. I hate love. ”
Neil Gaiman
(via free-love)
“ In Genesis, Sarah, pregnant long past her childbearing years, says her son is named Isaac, Hebrew for “laughter,” because it’s funny she would have a child at her age. ”
y después me preguntan si las mujeres tenemos sentido del humor…pfffff
Kristen Wiig lee algunos poemas de Suzanne Somers (Suzanne Somers?? si, la rubia de Three´s Company, la misma) para Celebrity Autobiography
mi parte favorita? “I like the gentle quiet loneliness of being alone, altough I thought of a friend last night, and almost call, but decided not to, because my hair needed washing, and I don´t know him well enough to look like I really do”
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Why would he come back through the park?
You thought that you saw him, but no you did not
It’s not him who come across the sea to surprise you
Not him who would know where in London to find you
With sadness so real that it populates
The city and leaves you homeless again
Steam from a cup and snow on the path
The seasons have changed from the present to past
The past
The past
Turns whole to half
The past
Why would he come back through the park?
You thought that you saw him, but no you did not
Who can be sure of anything through
The distance that keeps you
From knowing the truth
Why would you think your boy could become
The man who could make you sure he was the one?
The one…
My one…
My one…
