Diario del Alacrán

Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was always just red.

The little things? The little moments? — They aren’t little.

It’s okay if I’m not your favorite chapter you have written, but I hope you sometimes smile when you flip back to the pages I was still apart of.

And what I've come to realize is if you don't say what you need to say when you have a chance... you'll regret it. Even if you're mad, say it. Scream it into the world while you still have a chance to. Because once life passes you by, it's gone. And so are the words left unspoken.

“But I must admit I miss you terribly. The world is too quiet without you nearby.”

“They promise me the world will keep on spinning without you, but honestly, that is what worries me most.”

Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering.

“I’ve never been very good at leaving things behind. I tried, but I have always left fragments of myself there too, like seeds awaiting their chance to grow.”

Do you ever wonder whether people would like you more or less if they could see inside you? [...] I always wonder about that. If people could see me the way I see myself — if they could live in my memories — would anyone love me?

“I feel myself shutting down, closing off, like I should tell people, ‘No, we don’t use this heart anymore. It’s too fragile.’”

“Unspoken feelings are unforgettable.”