Just remember, the same as a spectacular Vogue magazine, remember that no matter how close you follow the jumps: Continued on page whatever. No matter how careful you are, there’s going to be the sense you missed something, the collapsed feeling under your skin that you didn’t experience it all. There’s that fallen heart feeling that you rushed right through the moments where you should’ve been paying attention. Well, get used to that feeling. That’s how your whole life will feel some day. This is all practice. None of this matters. We’re just warming up.
– Chuck Palahniuk

Gifts

Somos una especie caprichosa. Decimos que nos sentimos solos cuando realmente nunca podremos imaginarnos lo que la soledad es de verdad. Igual y cuando pensamos en ella lo único que hacemos es darle forma a un concepto que no existe. Luego lamentamos no tener las cosas que tiene el otro, no poder hacer las mismas cosas que nuestro mejor amigo, no poder comprender lo mismo que el profesor… Somos una especie que no sabe valorar lo que tiene, que cree que en eso está el núcleo del conformismo y el de ser un don-nadie para siempre. Buscamos estar todo el tiempo acompañados, haciendo lo que sea necesario para no quedarnos con nosotros mismos, porque nos damos asco, porque sabemos en el fondo lo que somos en realidad. Por eso siempre estamos buscando ser aceptados, ser comprendidos, y la vida pasa y se explica con nuestra necesidad de justificar lo que somos, nuestra existencia, porque todo el tiempo nos sentimos culpables, pensamos que no merecemos el aire que respiramos. Todo el tiempo.

Hope you find it

I guess it is this difficult to love someone. To see their mistakes, their shit… and even then accept it and realize that you love them anyway. Who said that’s something easy? It’s not, because you know how hard it is to be you, to be this shitty person and still… still breathe and make shitty things to others. It’s gross to be human, really, it’s not that easy to love anyone, even less as your equal. How can we? It really is a miracle.

I'd cast a thousand of dark spells on you and me. We're going to live forever.

I can't even begin to tell you how much it broke my heart to imagine him saying that and then remembering a trace of what I felt when I said the same. Me too, Harry, I don't want to die either, I… I want to…

My skin

I don't wanna die.

If that unsettles you it's because you know what it means, because you like to live in the falsehood and when this gets to you, when you remember what it's real, your body shakes with spasms of fear before the same pleadding imaginary eyes that have haunted you since that day when you said exactly the same words. I'm not going to make it easier to you. That was said by a fifteen-year-old boy. Do you remember now?

wtv

No matter how much you've read. It doesn't matter what have you written in your entire life. Nothing of this matters when your son is dying or the love of your life has just broken your heart or you've lost your parents or you are just so damn happy that nothing else exists in the world beside the scene in front of you. At that kind of moments, you won't remember a single quote or a single fictional face of the characters of the book that has marked you in ways that nothing else would ever do (or at least you thought at that time). At that very moment, the books can't console you, and if someone ever dares to say otherwise, they don't know what I'm talking you about, they have never had those very moments when all you want to do is to scream and hit anything and just be angry with the world and God or whatever, always asking "Why me? Why this? Why them…?" Nothing ever prepares you to those kind of moments. You can read and write and think that you know it all, the feelings, the thoughts, everything, but you don't. You can hide under tons of books thinking that they're more worth of than living in the real world, because there's nothing out there that a book can't tell you about. But you are wrong. When reality crashes into you… no book has ever prepared you to it, not even the tears you've shed for the tragedies or the laughs for the merry moments. Everything seems vain in those moments where all changes and you're obliged to confront your fears, the joy and the facts, and books can tell you about it in thousand of ways, but they never get to make you be in there, in that moment, you think they do, but they don't and you can realize that when it gets to happen to you. And you're never going to think "Ah, Shakespeare would describe this as a…" No, damn it! That doesn't happen and won't happen ever because in the moment everything tightens and your vision is blurry and… and whatever!