Todos nosotros somos seres imperfectos que vivimos en un mundo imperfecto.
Spending plenty of time on something can be the most sophisticated form of revenge.
People leave strange little memories of themselves behind when they die.
Artists are those who can evade the verbose.
When you prick a person with a needle, red blood comes out- that’s the real world.
Loneliness becomes an acid that eats away at you.
Not being able to find the right words at crucial times is one of my many problems.
But hell, you’ve gotta work with what you’ve got.
If only I could fallsound asleep and wake up in my old reality!
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