Sunday, March 21, 2010

Best Design For Tin Foil Boats

my weaknesses.


You have calculated lifetime, measured on high doses of reason, thinking that perhaps is not what you would most like anytime soon, but what better I will do eventually. One learned too. Learned to think as they must, into silence when it comes to silence, not to give when it should not give. And all goes well, because mistakes do not dare to undertake, to alter, because one is strong, and one understands that emotion is not reliable.

Everything is rigidly planned, emotions well inside a package tied in and life is as far as can be peaceful.

suddenly kill me. You kill me. You make me doubt everything, unbalances everything ruin everything. And my sweet life, sweet stage fell slowly, slowly ... but irretrievably.

've left me all alone.

I do not I have you, no I have her, and everything seems to hurt beyond belief. The truth came to light: I was never free. I've always bound to you, and I linked to it. And now they have agreed to make me feel that I have nothing, who never had, and perhaps take much to get it.

Yes, feel hard, painful and overwhelming.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Nike Green Forearm Sleeves

parallel on the average of a trapezoid is half the sum of its bases:

In my free time I entertain with a lighter. First I turn on a strand of my lush hair, an act innocent, imperceptible, but I burst conquest. Glow fleeting, ephemeral beauty atmosphere full flash of light, shadow enemy. That sound celestial, the crackle of the flame when it touches my hair and love intrigues me. I want to shelve this torment, but will further prompts me to repeat the process, into a continuous, although it is impossible because the fire is abrasive destruction and fear.
This accumulation of contradictions led me to take the difficult decision to burn my head to bonzo ... just to finish what has already begun.



Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Bulemia And Left Shoulder Pain

and mashed in, or maybe not.


begin to have the suspicion that it surpassed anything or anyone. Everything is macerated in, slowly, becoming a substance delicious or terrible, always depends. Is saved as one comes to believe that he has disappeared, and the fleeting joy, momentary peace, tranquility stay for a while. Until you see a photo, warm eyes, a song of the time, this time a beautiful voice echoing in the walls, something that causes an "it" sweet and dangerous, for a pleasure terrible resurgence of emotion. And sigh, and you take the hair, and you wonder why you are where you are, and if there is a way, a way ...

course, then leaves, but the poison may have spread. When you heal all comes back to deep, to continue simmering, waiting for another occasion.

*

Another option is that you simply aspire to the outside, the nose, the eyes, ears, and then drowns in that: nostalgia.