I kept drinking…

I kept drinking because I wanted to drown myself into something other than melancholy. I kept drinking because I needed to stop thinking about cutting my own skin and take my heart out, to let the blood flow and let breath these wounds that I often cover. I kept drinking to forget about the scars…

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She was like that, so brutal, so honest, so disheveled, so transparent, so human, that she was misunderstood.

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¿Dónde realmente están los “locos”? Donde no saben convivir entre seres humanos en el mundo de afuera o en el manicomio donde está permitido crear tu propia realidad.

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