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Coff Coff I hate physics!

There's a light in the world
that nobody sees,
anyone but me
and that's the light I control.

There's an hour in the day
that everyone dismiss, 
but it must exist, because
that's where I live.

And every once in a life
it comes a sun
and this, although it burns,
it swallows me whole

For in ashes I need to become
so the realm,
as powerty as it is,
can get to find its peace

But my return is a gift,
for I come to feed you all,
with what you most need,
and you can only find it through eternity.

As Red As A Heart

As red as a heart

my love for you was,

but the infinity of 

the wrath that dwelt 

inside each vein

of myself,

made me surrender

into the loneliness

of a life without you

and the love

that you meant.

For the happiness

was not writing in my heart

and you were not longer in my path.


I want to die because my head is empty.

As many people know, a) I'm not a good student, b) I'm not very social, and c) I'm not gold.

The UWC wants a lot of things that I'm not, but I'm still aplying, brave me. I have less than 2 months to study for the knowledge exam and I'll tell you what kind of knowledge I have: NONE! God knows I'm not good in math, or in any form of science for that matter. 

I'm scare.

This is like a big opportunity, but let's be honest, maybe I'm not good enough. And maybe I'm not good enough because I'm scare.

So yeah, I'm studying for the exam, it's going to be difficult because I know about nothing about everything and in words of Nora Grey - from Crescendo by Becca Fitzpatrick;

"I tended to be more of a romantic than a realist, and chose blind faith over cold logic. Which put science and me at odd right from the start"

The only difference between her and me is that she is really a good student.

Well, the thing is that I'm not a bad student, I have good notes... except in anything that includes math. For example this last semester I just got two 7's (in calc and physic) and the rest of my scores (or grades) were 10's. I'm not so bad, but still I am. Damn it!.
The big waves are not
strong enought to move me,
nor the ocean big enough to swallow me
for I have will enough
and nothing can drown me,
so I will stand still,
with the water to my neck,
until the sun have decided to show itself

So I say " your love is like a bullet
that enters my brain, with a devil inside"
but you're something purer, holier,
but as same as deadly.

I fell in the ocean and I drowned there
until you fell right beside me,
and neither the waves, nor the big ocean
can tear us apart, for the rest that eternity last

FAIL! This is a terible time in my life, first of all my hotmail account was stole to send IDK what type of emails and I can't get it back! Oh yeah, I have important hings in there! :(

To get me angrier, the contest that I had been waiting since... almost a year, is not open to international users of figment.com, so "You Used To Be Love" will never see the light in the anthology "Defy the Dark". I nearly died when I found out in the full rules. So go ahead resident od US and parts of Canada write good damn stories that will make me say "I wouldn't won anyway" - which would have happen anyway because the odds are never in my favor, but at least I wanted the change to try -

I basically hate the whole world right now. But hey! I will move on.


There are certain trues about the people that are like me.

We are no like the others, we’re not even the same between us, but people classify us because of our numbness.

When we were hit by the lightning people told us that we were never going to be the same, doctors, parent, friends, and they said that that was okey, that that was what supposed to happened, they said that we were going to find a way to figured out and live happy again with that.

There were all lies, they couldn’t stand us and all parents, family and friends left us alone, then we find our way together; all of us. It was magnetic, and without anyone who tell us we started to live by our own terms.

We weren’t allowed to school or to work anymore because we scarred the people there, so we got it difficult to get food and supplies but at the end the lightning made us smarter and skilled that the rest of the world and we found our way to survive.

You see, the lightning hit the earth almost three years ago, it hit in an island I don’t clearly remember the name, there isn’t any record about it, nor in videos or in photos, or even in satellites, but how do we know about it?; the sound and the light, it covered all the world, everyone hear it, and the few witnesses --those who aren’t miraculously blind of deaf- can tell us what they saw, some of them describe it like a huge whirlpool of light and electricity.

That electricity, somehow, got to us –a few hundreds around the world – and filled us with it and turned off our brains.

Then turned on again.

What people don’t understand is that it gave us wisdom more than anything. So much wisdom that we cannot get it out, for it is impossible to explain it with words. But what it is that they fear? The stillness of our shoulders? The way in which our pupils always point ahead? Our determination? Our greatness?

There isn’t really a way to describe us. We don’t know what we are or why we were chosen, we don’t  wonder it, either. It’s just it. And we know why we are here.

The electricity showed us. The way to bring wisdom to humanity is let our creators in.


There's always had been a part within me who lies to me.

It's like a dog chasing a cat that run in circles.

It's me trying to say the truth about myself and about others, but it's also me lying and the denying and believing the opposite.

I'd like to say that I know who I am.

I'd like to say that I can get to change or that it's right. Or that it's wrong.

But who am I to say that?

Who am I to find the truth?

Who is the truth at all? It is so different from me? So different from the lies?

Or are we one altogether?
There's a way in which everything looks clearer when your eyes are out of focus"

I never realy loved anything or anyone before. 

I always thought that bounds were useless. At least I didn't believe it was right to owe love to somebody.

I never felt passionate.

I never really lived at all.

Not until he came, beautiful as anything else. He was everything itself; love, life and passion. 

He was also a deceiver, because he made me believe that he didn't loved me back. 

He made me believe that he would never be mine.

He said it so directly that I had no choice but to believe it. He was playing so well, acting from fear.

I use to be so aware of what he said to me or how he looked to me that I never get one of those things for real, because when I wasn't looking at him, he was looking at me.

The act didn't last long. Maybe it did, now it just feels like nothing.

I remember everything about that night when we both gave in; the softness of his face, the sofness of his hands, the sofness of his words. He kissed me like I would never believe I would want to be kissed.

I kiss him back and harder and harder he went with his soft lips. His hands clutched both of my arms; we were still breathing heavy, not wanting to stop, but he just fine as well found the time to look into my eyes and loccked me there for forever.

He trace my skin with every single fingertip.

He made love to me with such a passion that I will never forget, with such a passion that I will always owe him back.

"Love me", I plead between breaths, "Love me", he repeated while giving me all his love.

I buried my nail in his back making him groan, he made me groan back with little bites on my neck.

I was so exhauted that I don't remember if it was light from the day or just the light of his eyes that made me shut my eyes.

He said, "you ruined my facade" saying it like he'd never believe it would be a good thing, until then.

"Facades only count when you want someone to look at them" I mumbled back and I fall asleep with the sound of his voice pleading "love me", as if he was also realizing I alredy did.

Dew (With every song that ends scene)

And even when he keeps repeating everything he knows, I have stopped listening, because for the first time I start to feel what I should always felt; the tips of my fingers burn with the power of all the energy containedI try to concentrate on that. Because this is it. The key. The power. But the sound of Deriam's breathing distracts me so much, so when I close my eyes I decide to think only of that and it's right there, in that moment, when his lips touch the skin of my cheek and I am aware of the heat that radiates from every cell of his body behind me, when the pressure in my palms starts to decrease slowly.

I open my eyes and I gasp. His forehead is now where his lips were seconds ago and his breath hits deep in my neck.  I can feel his eyes  closed so I'm sure that he is missing what is in front of us, what I just created; hundreds, thousands or millions of drops of dew are raised above the ground, moving slightly in the air, above each flower, grass or leaf.

And it is beautiful. Completely beautiful.

I am

I move very slowly, because I know what will happend if I don't.

There had been countless of times when I have saw this happend to other people, countless of times when I have studied the forms, the types and every second of it because I know that every second tells a different story for each of us.

There had been people who got mad, they are the fastest and they are the mayority. There are only a few of us who remain calm, scared, of course, but at least we don't scream or kick or run. I have studied this for years. This is my thing; I search for a cure, for the slightliest remedies. I have found almost nothing, only a few tips, if you like to call them like that.

Number one; do not froze, run, do not stop, as long as you stay with the subject who has bitten you, the more powerfull will be the need to become in it.

Number two; do not keep it like a secret, just as you have receive a bite go and tell to an especialist. Keep it in silence will not cure you and will only affect your love ones.

Number three; do not become uncontrollable, studies have proof that rabid movements and furious manners will reduce the time you have left and will increase the force and the carnivora need of the monster you're becoming in.

That's why my hands and arms barely stretch while I try to retrieve the pencil and the paper while I try to write everything that I know; from my brain to the humanity.

There's an itchy feeling in my legs and in my forearms; I know that when you try to soothe the itch you only expand the skin methamophorsis faster, but it seems imposible the thought of conquer my movements, so it's imposible for my hands and fingers and nails to not try to turn off this horrible feeling, with tembling hands I scratch the wounds as slowly as possible.

All this little changes are driving mad, but I try to control everything I do, everytime I feel the need to shout I try my best to not let any sound escape and so it end with my mouth slowly parting in a silent scream.

I try to fight everything back, to fight it back, but it's already impossible.

Despite my efforts I begin a shivering attack, luckily enough I have finish writing the most important information. I slowly fold the pages of paper inside  an envelop but it falls out of my hands when a sudden jolt take over my hands, the pencil in the desk falls too, and then it is me out of the chair.

It's alredy too late.

...too late

Alredy too late because now I am one of them

...now I'm a zombie



The forest is talking in a low voice. The forest is moving, because this is a bad place to stay. The trees know, and I know. 

"Forests doesn't have voices of their own, but wind does, wind speaks through trees, and the trees howl" that was something that my father said once, I was between sleep and reallity and he was in this state of... madness. Poetic madness, though.

He said something else, something I couldn't understand at that time, but now I'm very sure of what it was.

"You will be the one"

At first I didn't understand the meaning, then, I was standing under a tree, in the middle of the forest covered with someone else's blood and I realize.

My father had saw me, he knew that I will be the one who will make the trees howl, because I had the voice, I owned the madness.

It wasn't until I get to the cottage that I realize what I had left behind; the blood of the woman staining the snow.

The link that confirmed that I was the one.