I don't know why I keep coming back here except to read over things we wrote together. One day, the server will eat them up and they'll be gone. So if you don't forgive me for whatever I did and talk to me again, one day there won't be anything there for Luka and Eve. Something about that makes me incredibly sad. Maybe wistful. Regretful. Some feeling I don't know the word for because they probably don't have a word for it in English.
Hay pájaros de color de azufre y horribles intestinos
colgando de las puertas de las casas que odio,
hay dentaduras olvidadas en una cafetera,
hay espejos
que debieran haber llorado de vergüenza y espanto,
hay paraguas en todas partes, y venenos, y ombligos...
Hope you are well, my dear Diary. Wish me luck and warmth. You can have my birthday this year, I don't think I'll need it, so I'll just pop over and say hello on the 19th.
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colgando de las puertas de las casas que odio,
hay dentaduras olvidadas en una cafetera,
hay espejos
que debieran haber llorado de vergüenza y espanto,
hay paraguas en todas partes, y venenos, y ombligos...