It’s funny how everybody likes to take photos of their feet. I think it’s because it documents, from a first person point of view, what is going on, where we are and how we feel.
Dear Song I Can’t Fucking Get Outta My Head, I think I love you but it might just be infatuation.
I love days that are sexy in sunshine.
Kill your darlings.
Melancholy is the sophisticated and seductive sister of Arrogance.
Sometimes I forget to look for you in me and get lost in myself. Half the times, I’m sorry for it.
I can see you in me every time I look at the mirror. I see you, and you, and you, and you.
Being a high achiever and perfectionist has its dark side. Starting with a ferocious competitiveness and an implacable need to win. Wish I could resist myself. Sometimes.
Ironic that we spend most of our childhood/teen years trying to belong and then most of our adulthood trying to be different and unique.
Does it make you smile when I write about you between the lines?
I write your name in my notebooks from time to time. Calligraphy and all.
I can take the lead but I need you to watch over me. Just a bit.
I can tell you how it feels to be free.
I’m one of those persons who needs to move to think. Move to think.
What I enjoy the most of being an adult has more things to do with childhood than with being a grown-up.
Makes me so sad that Time flies away that when I can linger on him, I try to make him fall in love with me so he won’t ever leave me.
The best way to get over an obsession is to get fixated onto something else. Preferably, something more pleasurable or of quicker gratification than the previous obsession.
It’s valid to change your mind. Even if you swore you wouldn’t.