the narrator

I am only a little melancholic, a little bit sick of the world, but isn’t everyone like this?

If you feel that I am unfamiliar in a crowd, do not be surprised, that is not the real me

I am still the person you know from before.

by Jimmy Liao

the story

June 2004
August 2004
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
April 2007
May 2007
August 2007
September 2007
January 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
June 2009
July 2009
August 2009
September 2009
October 2009
November 2009
March 2010
April 2010
May 2010
June 2010
July 2010
August 2010
September 2010
October 2010
November 2010
December 2010
February 2011
March 2011
April 2011
May 2011
June 2011
July 2011
August 2011
September 2011
October 2011
November 2011
December 2011
January 2012
February 2012
March 2012
May 2012
June 2012
August 2012
September 2012
October 2012
November 2012
January 2013
February 2013
March 2013
May 2013
June 2013
July 2013
August 2013
January 2014
February 2014
June 2014
September 2014
January 2015
April 2015
February 2016
March 2016
April 2016

the creator

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lyrics: big city life by mattafix
#id10tdoc;

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses. You build up a whole armor, for years, so nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life... You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' or 'how very perceptive' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a body-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. Nothing should be able to do that. Especially not love. I hate love.”

– Neil Gaiman, The Sandman #65

..signing off..

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