no offense but my favorite hobby is staying hydrated and beautiful
The moment you died, I was fucking a boy. Not a nice boy, not a handsome boy, not even a boy I know very well, but still I was not alone. And I wasn’t being good. I would drift sometimes, and that made it bearable. I would think any crazy thing, try to imagine what the best thing would be. Fucking an angel, I thought. That was as close as I could come to the idea of god. A very beautiful boy. I would feel the air on my face from the beating of his wings. When angels come they beat their wings, it makes a noise like a flock of birds lifting off the water.
—Kathryn Harrison, Exposure