I hate Bloody Mary.

She's like a heavy machine gun ,but I learned how to make her shut up, how catch her tricky bullets and and throw them back to her. And I stand for everything she hates but she holds on to me like poisonous ivy and she follows me like fucking plague even in the caverns where I like to hide. Shut up Mary! You killed too many of my dreams and stole too many of my perfect moments. Shut up now and I won't shoot you in the head and I won't enjoy feeling your tiny brain blowing up in my hand. I've come up with so many ways to kill you that Charles Manson would be proud of me . I hate you, Bloody Mary, because you are like a poisonous drug that runs through my veins . Firstly I love the way you make me fall in flamboyant trips and then you kill me slowly. I'm awake now, and I can shout out loud: Fuck you , Bloody Mary!

Things have changed.

"Standing on the gallows with my head in a noose/Any minute now I'm expecting all hell to break loose." (Bob Dylan)
Yesterday I got the closure of an era. Today I got the beggining of an other. I still haven't found my happiness on the bottom of any bottle or in a random pair of arms ,but I got a direction , some dreams and a bad hangover. I am as clueless as Sid Vicious onstage, because I dont really know what plans have been made for me. Looking back, I can finally depict memories of happiness , adrenaline, desolation, passion and inertia, beetween millions of pointlessly wasted moments. It feels good to be mature enough to distort the bitterness of life with self - sarcasm and immature enough to live spontaneously. So , please mr. Dylan sing for me , sing my life, sing my good times and my bad moments, sing me as I am, a clueless soul lead by a spotless mind.