Yeah,I love him.

Shit happens.

Everyone says that they are lost.
I'm not lost.
I know exactly where I am.
I just HATE it here.

The world sucks.

Because I need to feel something other than this emptiness.

My whole world.

I know I'm dead on the surface but I'm screaming underneath.

You know that feeling? When you're just waiting. Waiting to get home, into your room, close the door, fall into bed, and just let everything out that you kept in all day. That feeling of both relief and desesperation. Nothing is wrong. But nothing is right either. And you're tired. Tired of everything, tired of nothing. And you just want someone to be there and tell you it's okay. But no one's going to be there. And you know you have to be strong for yourself, because no one can fix. But you're tired of waiting. Tired of having to be the one to fix yourself and every one else. Tired of being strong. And for once, you just want it to be easy. To be simple. To be helped. To be saved. But you know you won't be. But you're still hoping. And you're still wishing. And you're still staying strong and fighting, with tears in your eyes.
You're fighting.

You've got bad news written all over you.

There is a difference between giving up, and know when you had enough.

I tried to be perfect.

I'm just tired. I'm tired of waking up to the same routine everyday, seeing the same people, it's getting old. I'm tired of waking up alone and cold. Pushing myself to get out of bed. "I'm tired". That's my excuse.

You were never a friend to me.

Give me a therapy, I'm a walking travesty but I'm smiling at everything.

I'm not fucking okay.

My body isn't perfect. I don't walk with confidence. I get into fights with my parents and friends. Some nights I'd rather be by myself that out partying. I cry over the smalliest things sometimes. There are days that I get through with forced smiles and fake laughs. Sometimes, I try to convince myself that things are okay when they're not. I'm not ugly but I'm not beautiful. I don't look as good in real life as I do in pictures. There are some nights that I cry myself to sleep. I constantly think I'm not good enough. I'm imperfect but I'm perfectly me.

Maybe I know, somewhere, deep in my soul, that love never last.

Supongo que todo tiene un fin, supongo que si de verdad quieres a alguien debes dejarle ir, por mucho que duela, por muchos recuerdos que haya.
Supongo que no he sido suficiente, que no soy demasiado buena en esto, que lo merezco.
Y supongo, también, que estoy harta de suponer.

I know that there's a place for me somewhere out there.

Hide away

The day I learn to fly, I am never come back here.

New born.

Y aquí estamos, parecía imposible pero no he podido resistirme a hacerme uno.
¿Se supone que al ser la primera entrada debo hablar de mí?
¿Qué decir de uno mismo? Siempre cuesta describirse.
Podría empezar porque soy una chica tímida, si, aunque no lo creais lo soy.
Me gusta la música por encima de cualquier cosa, lo que implica a Tokio Hotel.
La moda, Anaís, L.A., la fotografía, leer, los coches, el chocolate, los tacones, ir de concierto, escribir sin faltas de ortografía, mis amigos, los raperos, los rockeros, el rubio oxigenado, Kurt Cobain, dormir, las guitarras, Gossip Girl, esa sensación de que algo es solo tuyo, Audrey Hepburn, la libertad, mi BlackBerry, Londres, el verano, Chanel, las noches en vela, Martini, escribir, el inglés, Lady Gaga, Converse All Star, la República, Madrid, el grunge, Starbucks, mi delfín de peluche, y un largo etcétera.