Hay tanta, tanta, tanta gente tan pendeja en el mundo. Hay días que no soporto a nadie, hay días que quisiera no tener principios como los que tengo para mandar a todo mundo a la chingada. Hay días que quisiera que la gente se ahogara en su estupidez, días en que la mayoría me parecen una bola de imbéciles viviendo como robots, sólo al día, sólo en lo cotidiano.

Tal vez son ellos los que tienen razón, y el mundo en realidad es tan pendejo que no vale la pena pensar sobre él. Que esas platiquitas vacías son lo verdaderamente importante. ¿Para qué hablar de temas más profundos, si finalmente nada es trascendental?

Sick

Call me a sick person... but I just love the way a sad girl looks.

Illusion of God.

"You cannot kill a breeze, a wind, a fragrance, you cannot kill a dream or an ambition. God, manufactured by mortals in their own quintessential image, exists only to make daily life bearable despite the path that every one of us treads toward extinction. As long as men are obliged to die, some of them, unable to endure the prospect, will concoct fond illusions. We cannot assassinate or kill an illusion. In fact, illusion is more likely to kill us — for God puts to death everything that stands up to him, beginning with reason, intelligence, and the critical mind. All the rest follows in a chain reaction."

-Michel Onfray.

Palindromes.

People always end up the way they started out. No one ever changes. They think they do but they don't. If you're the depressed type now that's the way you'll always be. If you're the mindless happy type now, that's the way you'll be when you grow up. You might lose some weight, your face may clear up, get a body tan, breast enlargement, a sex change, it makes no difference. Essentially, from in front, from behind. Whether you're 13 or 50, you will always be the same.