▲CON CANELA Y MIEL ▲

electrolytes: pl. (n.) -
 
The ionized or ionizable constituents of a living cell, blood, or other organic matter.
 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ScFnVZ7gC8&feature=related

Gonna go see Foals in Hamburg tomorrow which means I will be failing my math test later this week.
 
le sigh.

So after a positively mahusive leave of absence I have once again returned my poly-friends.
 
These past few months have been rife with univerisity life in Germany, trips to China, fairy-tale tattoos, neuroscience laboratories, vintage shopping, my birthday which was last Tuesday (rocking dem nineteen years with a new boobie piercing). I'm off to Glasgow in two weeks and I have a Neuro midterm tomorrow and a feminist monologue performance this weekend for which I will buy a pair of sparkly black Miu Miu look-alike heels I saw in a shop the other day.
 
Many kisses to you my lovelies and let us rekindle our poly friend-ship asap with this llama.

That's what makes you the sparkling bit of dust on this dying earth.

I'm so scared.
 
I think I'm falling for someone.
 
Well, fuck.

Needs more cowbell.
 

 
It's too late/early. What is this shit? Apologies.

There ain't no sugar-coating this.

My heart has been torn to pieces today.
 
I've never been so sad before. Nothing has ever affected me this much and to think that, for the most part, it's a rather trivial thing.
 
I mean I've known, concretely for over two years now, that this was bound to happen but I still wasn't ready.
 
I don't think I 'd ever be.
 
But it happened and it was partially my fault because I shouldn't have gone into it knowing it wasn't going to be the same.
 
I was ready for that but it's just the way it was different that really broke me. It was dirty and unkempt and cluttered and desolate and dead.
 
Dead. No rose garden, no willow tree, no tangled knots of flowers, no twisted iron gates. Inside: tacky, distorted, stripped of all vitality. There's just not a trace of the rich history which made that house the pinnacle of a family scattered across the globe. A house that meant new beginning and hope during the 1970's and from then on an imminent force that, like a magnet, pulled us all back into a routine we'd never tire of.
 
Now only the shell remains and it's an ugly shell which has been vandalized beyond repair.
 
I'd rather have it demolished. I'd rather have it gone than further humiliated.
 
I have no reason to love the place I was born in anymore. I might actually hate it.
 
I hate it because it cheated me. I was promised I would always have a home but I am now a child of no where.
 
I've never really known what to tell people when they asked where I am from because I'm from many places - but I was born here so it was a safe and comforting answer.
 
Now I have to lie.