Yule Shoot Your Eye Out.

These are your good years
So don't take my advice,
You never wanted the nice boys anyway.
And I'm of good cheer,
'cause I've been checking my list,
the gifts you're receiving from me will be:
1- Awkward silence, and
2- Hopes you cry yourself to sleep,
Staying up, waiting by the phone.
And all I want this year's
For you to dedicate your last breath to me
Before you bury yourself alive.

Don't come home for xmas,
You're the last thing I wanna see
Underneath the tree.
Merry xmas, I could care less.

Happy new year's baby,
You owe me the best gift I will ever ask for.
Don't call me up when the snow comes down,
It's the only thing I want this year.


Fall Out Boy's gift for this holidays.



Mademoiselle Juliettè,
Iba a hacer esto mañana, o pasado. No me pude aguantar más.

Lost and found

I find this universe entirely made to annoy me.
I find most of the blogs annoying for they're all about proud mothers showing pictures of their baby children. Well gues what, my mum didn't have a blog.
I find most love songs annoying, since there are only two realities to them: they were made either from the ones who got the love of their lives to those who want someone to express the happiness they feel, or from the broken hearted to the broken hearted, with same purposes as the others.
I find every guy obnoxious and predictable. None of them surprise me anymore.
I find that no hairstyle works for me so they all suck. Same with clothes and make up.
I find food as a good complement of every day and also something that makes me look fatter and fatter.
I find that wanting to know things is easier yet less rewarding than knowing it all. I also think that the desire to study something just to let other people know I'm better makes me no better and that's not only frustrating but disappointing to the point of becoming repulsive.
I find fate to be a terrible lie. I find karma to suck and true love not to exist. Probably I'm the only one who truly and strongly believed they could make a difference, or that I could make a difference, turns out that's bullshit.
I find myself writing all the things I hate at two thirty four in the morning, and I'm starting to understand that life may be a little better if I spent less time bitching about things and more time enjoying. Fucking me.


Mademoiselle Juliettè
Back to spanish for the sake of your brain and my popularity: http://www.likepenelope.blogspot.com

She sells knock up purses.

Sé que existe. Lo vi ayer, sé que está.

Lo vengo buscando sin pensarlo mucho, sin quererlo y queriéndolo también. Antes solía aceptarlo de cualquiera forma, pero todos sabemos bien lo que quiero. Es que a veces se esconde tan bien que pienso que nunca lo voy a encontrar. Nunca significa para siempre.

Es injusto porque todos tienen uno. Por lo menos todos los que me importan. Y yo, como de costumbre, soy menos, soy la diferente, la que está sola.

Por que se trata un poco de eso, de estar solo y no querer aceptarlo. Tener que aprender a sostener tu propia mano, secar tus propias lágrimas y no querer hacerlo.

No quiero, no no y no. No es capricho es dignidad, es orgullo, es lo que me queda de verdad.

Mademoiselle Juliettè,

Desperate Monologue

-Goodbye, he said. Goodbye? Yes, goodbye.

I still do not know why I find it so hard to believe, I am not expecting anything at all from him anyway. I guess sometimes expecting is not that good. But, goodbye really?

There are some words that hurt. I've found words to be excellent for expressing feelings and situations, you see (talks to a spectator): there are words for everything. And if there is no word to say something you might as well just make it up, no fear, no one will know that word that just came out of your mouth does not exist: people don't listen.

However, I am losing my point here. As I was saying, there are some words that hurt. And it is not due to the letters that compose them but the person who mentions them. We give some people the power to say words that matter: they could make us as happy as we have never been, and they can turn our whole lives into the most disgusting and insulting misery. Funny, is not it?

He just did that. Well, not that. He caved a hole into my chest, took away the only light my house had, ripped out of me my last vein, he drank the last liter of blood out of my body, he killed my november in the middle of the autumn. "He just said goodbye", you might say. Though I beg to differ for he had the power to hurt, he had it and he knew it, but he did not want to use for my benefit: he used it for his own.

See, that seems to be the problem with men, those unreliable, greedy, cheating bastards. I do not mean to lose my temper, but the mere thought of his pitiful eyes and his thin lips letting go that "goodbye" just boils my blood. Or it freezes it, I cannot tell.

When did I ever ask for pity? "I only want sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me".

There, I said it. He broke my heart, I admit this is me looking for revenge. Me looking for you to hate him as much as I love him and so we all, moved by a strong feeling, can take his heart and throw it away to the wolves, mix his blood with poison and put it into his sleeping body again.

I do this so I don't have to be alone. Alone loving. Lonely, as always.

(Curtain falls)

Proclamation of emancipation

No soy una idealista, soy una persona con mucha iniciativa. Para muchos sólo susurro cosas antes de irme a dormir, tiro un par de líneas y sigo mi vida sin algún otro fin. Me preocupa todo demasiado y me preocupa que me preocupe tanto. No soy una charlatana ni tengo tanto poder de síntesis, solamente estoy tratando de ser ubicada. Todo lo que no puedo hacer según la Constitución lo descargo en forma de palabras.

Pueden pensar que no lastimo a nadie, que lo que yo escribo no significa nada. Pero la verdad es que no saben del poder de mi prosa, de lo mucho que hiere una palabra cuando se convierte en incriminadora, cuando mi discurso no es más mi discurso sino sus defectos.

Llegué muy lejos si miro desde donde comencé. Voy a seguir porque solamente yo digo hasta donde el resto del mundo puede ceder. Por ahora no hay nada que pueda hacer, tengo que dejar el tiempo correr, dos años, quizás tres. Y después... ya va a haber tiempo para hablar de "despúes", si igual yo ya lo tengo todo planeado.

Mademoiselle Juliettè,