Wake up

And realize that is a knife close to your chest. Nobodyelse seems to see it, and if they do, they act like there's nothing wrong in the place.
The knife is getting closer and closer. Suddenly, it hurts you.
The knife, my friend, is the truth. The truth, the thing that was always right there, but you never saw it. But in that moment, when you "wake up", you can't show it. You can't put it right in front of ther nose, and force them to see it. You have to pretend that everything is normal, nothing happens, there is no knife.
So, I did that. And of course, I am the girl crying at subway's station.

(There's only one thing that I want you to ask me, and I could forget all about this, and I could understand)

So, I hate that. I hate cry. I hate think about the knife, but more I hate it existance.

Everything is so fuck up. And I'm not saying it just for me... I'm talking in general... what's wrong with you people?


Let's see... what else? Oh, yes. I am like this. I don't want you to tell me how should I dress. I'm getting tired of hear you saying the same things over and over again. I'm not interesting in that, I don't care if you think I should. I don't like heard all those people telling me what could works for me. Why is such a problem that I'm more interesting in other stuff, that I'm like other things? Why should I do it in your way? And why do you keep going on with that?

What a week!


(but I brought my camera. It name is Pola)