Aug. 10, 2012 at 3:30pm with 4 notes
Reblogged from lazysmirk
I woke up
with the words “dilettante cancer” and “32C” floating around in the empty space of my head. This produced the effect of pawing my breasts but feeling aimlessly sad.
People die every second but he was one of my favourites. I like a person that is suddenly dead and he won’t ever write again.
And I still can’t find bras my size.
And fuck cancer.
