there's a ghost in my bedroom. dark eyes, curly hair. no soul. is that possible for a ghost?

I can't stress enough how little interest I have in a world you're not in.

I thought I hated you, but could I do that with your hands around my neck? Do I really hate you if I want to feel every inch of your skin on mine, even if I tear you apart later? It seemed like I hated you from afar, but when you're here I want to hate you with your lips on my lips and my hips attached to yours.

Everlasting. I want you to be my endgame, the last person I fall for and the last one to fall for me too. I Just really want you to feel the same and trust me; there's nothing I wouldn't do for us.

Eu quis te manter ali, na parede das boas memórias, intocada, como um talismã que talvez fosse sempre me lembrar de como foi ter sido amada por você, mas meu coração é amargo - ou a tua lembrança não é doce. Queria sentir que tive sorte por aquele breve momento no espaço-tempo em que nossas almas se tocaram, mas meu orgulho é gritante.

Eu gosto de imaginar que você se sente do mesmo jeito. Eu sinto que, de alguma forma, a gente se perdeu, porque eu simplesmente não consigo ser só sua amiga. Não funciona, não parece que vai funcionar um dia. Você está feliz e eu amo isso. Eu adoro te ver satisfeita, correndo atrás das coisas que importam pra você, junto dela. Mas eu também não consigo não me perguntar: e se...?

Eu sei que você sente também. E se, naquele dia, a 8 anos atrás, eu tivesse dado o primeiro passo e te beijado? E se eu não tivesse soltado da sua mão? E se você não tivesse jogado fora as flores?

Dói pensar no que a gente pode ter perdido, mas eu gosto de preservar a nossa história como algo bonito. Ela tem o amargo gosto de todos os quase amores, que te deixam com o peito apertado e um nó na garganta. Porque nós nunca tivemos a chance de tentar. Ou tivemos, e só não fomos...

Time has gone by and you're still upset because they can't love you right. They kiss your lips and whisper beautiful words into your ears, but you just needed them to hold your hand, didn't you? They just can't get it right.

You will lose things you thought you were lucky for having, but you will always find something better to be thankful for.

Somedays, when I hold your hand, I imagine what will it be like when you get tired of me.

I sit here, watching you take things too far once more. You set the table, save her a seat but she's not coming. I don't have the heart to tell you.

Eu sou uma boa companhia. "Que sorriso bonito. Que beijo bom" Eu converso, passo um tempo com você e por um momento a gente até acredita que aquilo possa ser algo bom de verdade. Mas é só até você conhecer alguém melhor. Aí você esfria. Não responde com o mesmo interesse. Demora, esquece. "Ta tudo bem?" "Ta... É que eu conheci um outro alguém." "Ah..." Ah. Tudo bem. Eu continuo sendo uma boa companhia.

I am amazing. I am smart, I am pretty, I am worthful. At least, these are the things I've always heard from my mother. And back then I believed her. When you are a kid you tend to believe everything your parents tell you. And they do it for your own good. I guess I got used to all the attention. Everyone would always say how great I was. I was full of myself, but still humble. But something changed. I grew up. I've changed. We all do. And suddenly, I wasn't amazing anymore... I wasn't smart anymore. I would try my best to keep my grades high, but there was always someone who'd be better than me in everything. I wasn't pretty anymore. My whole body changed and I could do a single thing to stop it. I didn't recognize me anymore, I wasn't used to that, but it was me... I had to live with these changes. And I would look at the other girls and ask myself: Why? Why couldn't I just be like her?? ...

• my dogs
• my family
• my friends
• my students & coworkers
• art
• performing on stage
• drinking coffee
• traveling
• going to thrift shops
• nature
• getting tattoos
• skating

What I feel, actually, is a big lack of appreciation. I know I'm liked, even loved, but I don't really feel appreciated enough for someone to care for me at a very intimate level. Is it because I push people away? Is it because of the way I look? It's fucking exhausting having to deal with it all by myself, but I know that I reap what I sow.

It's okay if you don't know what to say, baby, cause I will never run out of words, for both of us.

You think I hate you now, but you don't know how everything I've ever written is about you. You don't know how many poems and stories you inspired. You don't know the depth of everything you made me feel. I might dislike you now, it's true, but I could never, ever, hate you. And I hate it. I hate the fact that you're my poetry. I hate that I would never, in a thousand years, be able to rip you out of my chest. We can't change destiny. But I do hate all the flowers you never brought me and the kisses I held back. And I couldn't hate you.

I can't help being in love with you. When you call my name I can't control it; when I hear you laugh I can't help myself and I don't want to. I want to want you, and I hope that's ok.

But I loved you. I loved you with everthing I had. It just wasn't enough. It never is.

we said go slow but I think it's actually leading us nowhere;

RED I like red Because your blood runs red Your cheeks go red Your nails were red when you made my skin red

There's a note on my desk. It says "don't worry, you'll get used to the absence". I guess I adressed it to myself the day we met.

You told your friends you met someone new and now they don't believe us, they don't believe I'm different like you said your last one was. Standing outside your porch, watching you make the same mistakes, I'm not even sure you do.

love, sometimes, shows in unexpected ways. I love you, not in the way I wanted to, but in a way I've never known I needed to love you. You love me too and I believe our destinies crossed each other's for a reason.

"if a writer falls in love with you you can never die", they say. But why wait for someone to fall in love with you when you can start writting your own story yourself? No one can do it better than you.

E é tão engraçado como a vida acontece, mesmo com a convicção de que você existiu e de que eu te amei, de que tudo foi real, seu rosto hoje é não mais do que um borrão. Tua voz ainda ecoa no meu peito - você foi a única pessoa que eu já abracei tão perto daqui, e agora o que eu posso dizer? Você nem existe mais. Eu também não existo, não daquele jeito. Nós nunca seremos as mesmas pessoas e eu percebo agora que eu nunca vou chegar perto de saber como isso faz você se sentir.

Me desculpa. Eu te amo, mas em algum lugar do passado.

• Um pistoleiro chamado Papaco
• Ilha do medo-
• Donnie Darko-
• Sociedade dos poetas mortos
• Avatar
• Forrest Gump
• The great gatsby-
• Pet sematary
• Dr sono
• Vampire circus
• Die hard
• Kingsman
• Silêncio dos inocentes-
• A origem
• O sexto sentido
• A farol
• Família Addams
• Interstelar *
• Beleza americana
• O psicopata americano
• O iluminado

Sometimes it's like I ran out of things to feel, so I keep repeating myself, making the same mistakes again, hoping it will have a different outcome this time.

• Carmilla;
• Little Women;
• Lord of the Shadows;
• Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde;
• Veronika chooses to die;
• Hunger games;
• Catching fire;

I left an empty note on your desk because that's how you made me feel. It was empty and so was I. It was empty because I went out of words to say or tears to cry for you and your tiny, fragile love. It was empty because there is nothing left of what we used to be.

I curse my past, I curse your last. I curse everyone who once broke our hearts and left us this mess. I can't fix you when I'm broken myself. I can't show you how to love me when I don't even know how to do that. Furthermore, I can't blame you for being happy without me, for not wanting me there. And I can't stop me from hurting everytime I see how little you care, even though your words say the opposite.

"And if I shall die let 'em know it was a life worth living for the love I have shared with you."

Look around. Everything is black and white, but you're colorful from inside out. It starts in a beautiful pink, going through a vibrant yellow until it becomes blue. It all ends in blue.

You should still go out and see the world, even though I'm not part of it anymore. You should still watch the birds and feel the air and laugh about how small you think you are if compared to it all. I don't want you to cry about my touch, about its absence. I'll always be by the water. I'll be the water, you should still let it fall down, let it pour, let it clear your vision so you can go out and sit on the grass and enjoy every bit of it. I'll be every bit of it.

Eu tentei te levar para todos os lugares onde eu te amei, na esperança de me lembrar: como, porque. Ao invés disso, me deparei apenas com a memória, ainda viva, fresca, de um amor que eu não mais sentia - havia morrido em mim. Nosso lugar é o passado.

I can count on my hands how many times I missed you or thought of you and I don't think this is love.

She was all dressed in black and gray, her lazy ponytail falling on her shoulders. It was hard to describe how much of the smoke that came out of her mouth was a result of the cold or of the cigarette, that was once being pressed against her lips but now was laying down on the concrete. We had spent the whole afternoon staring at the horizon. Ever since Josh was gone, things had been a little weird between us, but it was nice having her company. She didn't feel like talking. Me neither. We were ok just smoking and trying to process what happened, when she broke the silence - You know what's annoying me? I feel like, somehow, I'm being left behind... - I got a little confused and she could feel it. She looked at me and continued - Josh always said he wasn't brave enough, right? He thought He was a coward. I didn't. - ... I'm not sure I'm following - We... We always talked about what happens...