Does this make sense?

Deja un comentario

I updated my twitter and wrote these to phrases:

  • Madness will set us free
  • It is not always what it seems, so we should think about what it is, and not what it appears to be Más

WTF… Just another post written when I’m mad (expect some cursing)…

Deja un comentario

What the fuck? Ok, we fucking broke up, whatever, but how the fuck is this supposed to make me feel, happy? FUCK YOU! What am I talking about? THIS:

You are sooo gorgeous! [Someone] says you are beautiful! Dice que tiene un [someone] que esta perfecto para ti! LOL! MUAH!

Again, WHAT THE FUCK? DOES SHE THINK THAT IS FUCKING HILARIOUS? FUCK THAT SHIT, ‘CUZ IT AIN’T, SO STOP IT… OOOH, OOOH, WE BROKE UP, SO WHAT? DOES THAT MEAN THAT I INSTANTLY STOP LOVING HER?! NO, IT DOES NOT MEAN THAT, SO THOSE COMMENTS AREN’T FUCKING WELCOME!

I fucking swear I was about to delete that fucking comment, but I’m not going to do it ‘cuz I’m not that kind of person, but FUUUUUCK! IS THAT FUCKING JUSTIFIED? IS SHE DOING IT ON PURPOSE?!

I just can’t fucking describe how fucking mad I am right now, the reason why I haven’t called her and asked her about that fucking comment or if her cousin is trying to make me jealous or something, ‘cuz right about now I want to kick some ass…!

And what pisses me off the most is that the comment was posted on a picture that I took and in which she’s tagged, so I can’t delete it, ‘cuz I’d look like a son of a bitch.

….Ugh, whatever….

The Madman

Deja un comentario

By Kahlil Gibran

You ask me how I became a madman.  It happened thus:  One day, long

before many gods were born, I woke from a deep sleep and found all

my masks were stolen,–the seven masks I have fashioned an worn in

seven lives,–I ran maskless through the crowded streets shouting,

“Thieves, thieves, the cursed thieves.”

Men and women laughed at me and some ran to their houses in fear

of me.

And when I reached the market place, a youth standing on a house-top

cried, “He is a madman.”  I looked up to behold him; the sun kissed

my own naked face for the first time.  For the first time the sun

kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with love for

the sun, and I wanted my masks no more.  And as if in a trance I

cried, “Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks.”

Thus I became a madman.

And I have found both freedom of loneliness and the safety from

being understood, for those who understand us enslave something in

us.

But let me not be too proud of my safety.  Even a Thief in a jail

is safe from another thief.

A %d blogueros les gusta esto: