Everyone has secrets here, just like everywhere else. I’m not yet used to the people between these walls. They wear their hidden things on their finger tips. You don’t know until they touch you, but when they do it’s as unexpected as a lightning strike and always sooner than you’d have thought. They still whisper but they don’t really care who’s nearby. Everyone has a gleaming pair of wings sewn into their back by hands of pain and sorrow and they’ve seemed to fly up above this mess that the rest of us call home. I’m not sure weather the burdens have lighten their souls, or if they simply have the strength to shine through what the rest of us cannot. I don’t know which would be more tragic: Needing horrors to create beauties or beauties being saddled with such horrors.
The thing I love most about WoW is no matter who you are, where you come from, what you believe, you are able to come onto an equal ground and express yourself whether it be trolling in trade chat or tearing up raids all the way to pretending to be a totally different person. The only limit is our imaginations.
Porque las jaulas no me abrigan, sólo la cálida prisión de tus manos entre las mías, como el suave retorno cuando amanece el día porque tu sangre se mezcla con la mía. Porque aparece el sol en tus mejillas y me obliga a decir que hasta en medio de los dos no se hagan cenizas y pueda ver brillar el fuego..Quédate conmigo a la deriva, en cualquier lugar, hasta poder respirar.
“…Bước ra cuộc sống, khi mà cái gì cũng thật mới mẻ, đến cả chính cảm xúc của mình cũng luôn mới mẻ, chúng ta hồn nhiên sai lầm, hồn nhiên va vấp, hồn nhiên gánh chịu hậu quả, hoặc hồn nhiên đổ thừa. Rồi chúng ta hồn nhiên đứng lên, hồn nhiên vượt qua. Và hồn nhiên quên đi…”