Hi I'm Drunk And Gay And I Can Only Say That I'm Gay When I'm Drunk Otherwise I'll Have Another Fucking

i'm currently the saddest i've ever been, haven't said a word to other people since yesterday, and oddly enough the TMA episode about the lonely domain (MAG 168: Quiet) is the first thing in a week that is making me breathe a little better.

these streets, they have a scent of older times, when life meant something different to what now seems to be.

ilumina meu dia mas

queima a minha pele

neon gravestones try to call for my blood

i miss feeling good

é isto.

what, with all due respect, the absolute fuck

I'm not so perfect

Those smooth, spit-cleaned cheeks gave no indication of the dreams crowding her skull. Should she make it to adulthood, the girl would arrive with two hundred and six bones. Two and a half million sweat glands. Ninety-six thousand kilometers of blood vessels. Forty-six chromosomes. Seven meters of small intestines. Six hundred and six discrete muscles. One hundred billion cerebral neurons. Two kidneys. A liver. A heart. A hundred trillion cells that died and were replaced, again and again. But no matter how many ways she dismembered and quantified the body lying beside her, she couldn’t say how many years the girl would wait before she married, if at all, or how many children she would have, if any; and between the creation of this body and its end lay the mystery the girl would spend her life solving.

-Anthony Marra