Honesty

Without honesty, you'll get nowhere. You'll lose in the long run, maybe win a few bucks along the way, maybe even a few fucks (you like that last one, don't you?) But in reality, it will be like driving 200km/h in the wrong lane with the brand new Lamborghini you bought yesterday that has suddenly become defective, while you're trying to get to some unknown destination that you apparently know of so well, but you're using the wrong directions that you printed off some shitty internet site, certain that this is the right way, praying that it is the right way, when you don't even believe in God. MISTAKES. And then you wonder, "What did I do wrong to end up this way?" Nothing, you might assure yourself...the world screwed you over but good times are ahead...and so you continue treading on this path of destruction, oblivious to the fact that this path, your destination, only leads to one place: a dead end
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Internal Flame

You're nothing special; I never fell for you, but rather, the idea of you. It's so easy to move on now that I think about it. Feelings that linger are only ones from what I felt before, the illusionary feelings. But I talk to you, and he, and she and them, and it makes it easier for me to understand that you really don't stand out from the crowd. Now close your eyes and think carefully. Why is it so hard to do something so simple? Now open them and look at me. Be careful with what you see. Eyes play mind tricks. See what's there, not what you want to see. I never told you I was something I didn't turn out to be. Words we needed to say remain unspoken, but it's okay, I hope that you'll someday dream with eyes wide open. Now try to awake in me my passion, my desire to truly want you. I dare you.

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Impostors

Why lie or tell half-truths? Because it sounds better? Truthfully, a funny fable you once told me still echoes in my ear. The ending was the best. Why lie? Because we forgot who we are? But we never tried to remember, to begin with.

And to say that we are friends, well, that is clearly a lie. Question is, who are you? For the years that I have known you, you remain unknown. We don't know each other. But we use each other, abuse each other. You mean nothing to me. That's no lie. Come. Meet me down the street.

I can't find the words to use to express myself in the clearest way. I am confused. As confused as you. But you appear to move on so easily. Seemingly unaffected. That is the truth I want to hear, despite its haunting echo in my ear. Reach out and touch my hand. I sense a bit of vulnerability. I can see it in your eyes. Don't you dare turn back to look at me now.

Keep walking. Go on, and continue moving on. You see, the party is about to begin. Continue living "life" with your fables that command the attention of unsuspecting, impressionable strangers. Continue wearing the masquerade mask you stole from your best friend. He'll never suspect a thing.

Remain distant as you always were. Turn away from the lights that help you see. Live in the darkness, in your pathetic shelter that offers you absolutely no protection. Especially from me. I will hurt you. Shred you to pieces. Devour you like the hungry wolves in your grand fables. You can't run from me.

Come along now. Put on your mask. Towards the masquerade party you go, along with the thousands of uninvited impostors at the dead-end street.
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Eternal Notes

The remnants of the bridges you’ve burned will remain with you in the form of their ashes that you’ll regurgitate constantly when you’re weak again. They’ll only bother you slightly until they’ll become too much to tolerate. You’ll choke on them. You’ll clench your throat and yell for help, but no one will hear your cries, because you are now alone, forced to struggle with the problems you have created for yourself. You destroyed the bridges that led to a better place, the only connections you had left, and chose to stick to the familiar settings that you’re so used to, afraid to take a chance, afraid to risk losing something that’s slowly destroying you. But you don’t see this. It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s too late. You’re spitting ashes out, attempting to take precious oxygen in, but your system is clogged. It’s taking over. It’s over. But the party has yet to begin. You close your eyes in pain, only to see yourself crossing a familiar bridge, one that has remained untouched by you. Until now. Music starts playing in the stillness of the scene, and on this bridge created by fire, you find yourself dancing with the devil.
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Flood Me, Flood You

I'm not a revenge-seeker. If I ever find out that you've been cheating on me, I won't cry you a river while thinking about what I did wrong or what I could've done to prevent this disaster from ensuing. I won't spit in your face – my momma taught me better than that - or waste my breath trying to speak to you. I won't do that. What I will do is find your mistress. I'll track her down, easily. Girls your type like to hang around coffee venues during their lunch breaks before heading back to work. That's how you met me, didn't you? I'll find her. I'll talk to her and get a feel for her character. Then I'll make her fall in love with me. When she told you that she only likes boys, she lied. She just didn't meet me yet. Watch this. She'll turn on you. I'll make her associate your name and face with bacteria, the scum of this earth, the father that left her mother for a whore when she was just a little girl. She'll hate you. And I'll do this with every girl you'll meet thereafter. Soon, I'll have a thousand girls in love with me, while you, you poor lonely man, will cry me a river, thinking about what you did wrong or what you could've done to prevent this disaster from ensuing. You'll attempt to drown in that river formed by your own tears, but I won't let you. Every time you try to plunge into it, I'll whisk you right back up and force you to suffer through every chaotic moment, causing you to inch closer and closer to insanity. I'm not a revenge seeker. You created this hell for yourself – I merely guided you to this hell because, as usual, you seemed a bit without direction.
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It's Your Turn

The illusions we believe in, we've happily indulged in for far too long. Our appetites for them were far too great to quell with a single question, followed by a single answer. These illusions we believe in, the ones that left our minds busting at the seams, have always seemed more real than the stars that ever pierced our skies. But, do you hear them calling far out into the distance? Is this salvation? We won't burn like stars, after all. This is relief, yet we remain sullen. One more taste of perfection? Surreal experiences. This is regret. We've reached our event horizon - the point of no return. We slip further and further into the void. Why that face? You've always been a pretty pale hue, but your complexion is now slowly fading to grey. We want boys, not grey. The void is dissolving, yet mystery still remains. Pull us in. Come a bit closer. I pull you in. You see, I am the dissolved girl, patiently waiting for her turn to enter the tangible abyss of the mysterious one.
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Roses are Red and Someone's Feeling Blue

I'm sorry that you're kinda stuck living in the past, trying to find some meaning where meaning doesn't exist, still trying to find some common ground with that uncommon girl, over-analyzing her behavior and trying to formulate some sort of plan to get rid of the constant self-inflicted pain that you make yourself deal with every single dreadful night. Look, the sun just set. You let thoughts of she consume you. You consume yourself. I'm sorry that you're unable to live in the present, still clinging on to what little hope is left. Leave the past alone. It should be buried in some location that's unknown to you, because I know you'd still go and visit it, with flowers in one hand, and a tissue in the other for your tears, because you're emotional like that. I'm sorry that you're unable to live in the present, to open your eyes and see this new girl staring back at you, this new girl that you like so much, who embraces you with open arms while you surely still think of the other one. You just don't want to move on. Why don't you listen when you tell yourself to move on, to look past the have-happened events that happened haphazardly? You want the best of both worlds. I'm sorry that you'll soon be left wondering where this girl has gone to and why she isn't here with you. You see, she took her world and left. And she also took the day, leaving behind the dreadful night. Look - the sun just set for the very last time. Now bury her name along with your past. Just don't bring her flowers - she never really liked them anyway.


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Stars

Apri gli occhi...

I'm
just
a
young
girl
with
stars
in
my
eyes.
But stars are bright. People want to reach the stars. It's one hell of a challenge, an impossibility (shh, don't tell them that.) Sometimes you can't even see them because they're hidden behind the clouds, even though you know they're still there. Sometimes you see those really nice stars that are just glowing with these beautiful reddish tones. Unless you're familiar with astronomy, little do you know that those colors are an indication that the star is dying. But in that moment, the star is so beautiful. That's all you see. That’s all that matters. You’re living in the moment. That's all that counts. But come to think of it, the star you see in the sky now is dead...nothing more than an illusion; it’s a remnant of something that once existed. A has been. Yet its beauty still remains. That lucky star. Don't be fooled; it still exists. It was once there, it's here now, and it will be there in your mind, for a long, long time. You give it life. You help it exist.

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Ok those were my ramblings, now for the crazy good part:
[link]

Check out that picture. Isn't that crazy? Earth seen from 4 billion miles away, photographed by Voyager 1 on June 6, 1990.

Of the "pale blue dot," astronomer Carl Sagan said, "That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every 'superstar,' every 'supreme leader,' every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there — on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam."