La posibilidad. Quiero que ya no exista para dejar de pensar en ella.
From now on I'm fucking possibilities, screwing the last shred of hope. I’m holding on to the missing ground, trying to rip the curtain out of my face. That stupid curtain. It has pictures, images, words. Sometimes they move, sometimes they sCREAm.
I’ve heard that on the other side there’s nothingness, and that it will make me feel good, it will make me be. Just be.
Wouldn't that be nice...