Author of quotes: Darya Romanovich

- I hate you.
- Yes? How cute. I hate all the time.

My friends, have club crazy. The list for invitations!

- I never lied to you, Ian.
I know. You just never told me the truth.
- The truth that hurts hurt worse than a lie.
Well, that and talked.

It was an indescribable feeling. My brain was throbbing in a permanent, continuous, increasing orgasm and heart hollowed on the edges as if someone is hammering piles. Muscles burning, as if the bones along the paved red-hot wire. I looked into the velvet night sky, hanging above me a canopy and knew that I can raise my hand and wound it into a fist.

It was like to stand in the way of a tornado, every cell of his body soaking up the lethality of the moment, feeling his own insignificance before the face of the destructive power of the primitive element. You know what the next second will die, and I can't move, can't look away, mesmerized by the eye of the hurricane, paralyzed the gentle breeze of death.

Real friends, they are. In trouble each other not throw. True, damn them flogged in the tail and mane, friends will always find a way to fuck up your life even more - although it would seem, is stronger than nowhere.

It is not necessary to look under other people's masks. Because sometimes you can see something completely unexpected. Completely broken psyche. Shattered, crippled soul. And sick, terribly sick eyes.

Memories circled around me like a dance of ghosts. Completely haphazard. Randomly missing output messages.

I went down to the bottom. For hours I wandered from corner to corner in a fog of insomnia and revived nightmares, prayed, and bargained with the Lord, although to a hundredth of a percent were not sure I believe him. He promised that if he will give me Ian, I have the rest of life will to perform good deeds, help the poor and every morning to go to Church. The next minute I was falling into the dirty and blasphemy, spitting, threatening to erase from the face of the earth all churches, mosques, synagogues and pagodas to the last, if he only dare I can't help. I began a sentence, podmazyvanie to God with a promise to forever leave the monastery, and finished - exposing his soul sold to the devil.
But he and the other obviously wanted to spit on my pleas and threats, as well as on me.

I've never been able to do something halfway. Now life has poured me a full Cup of sorrow and was forced to drink. And I drank. Gulp. Until the last fucking drop.

In winter, the line between night and day blurred. This summer morning declares itself loudly, knocking to the ground the bucket is a soft pink spolokhov. In the winter, dirty dawn sneaks up on us, surreptitiously. As a professional killer.

I knew all about pain. About the pain that oppression of the RAM's horn, soul, forcing her to tie the knot, I knew nothing.

We laughed. Reckless and evil. I recently realized that laughter is the only thing left for you to mourn the ruins of that crumbled reality. And Jan - because I realized it long ago.

A vampire came into my life, not bringing with them nothing but pain and blood. But that night in the "Gallery" when the pale lips said, "Double gin with ice", I really began to live. To live, and are fed up with him not to pull the strap of existence, distantly watching as cracking muddy slush days, similar to one another, as if cloned. To live life fast and furiously, like a spark, Sapareva fuse to the box of dynamite. To live to death.