desidia

Marla's at the kitchen table, burning the inside of her arm with a clove cigarette... Marla twists the cigarette into the soft white belly of her arm. "Burn, witch, burn."

I wish I'd read that book earlier in my life. Then my scars wouldn't be on the outside of my arm to be seen in short sleeves.



I forget who I stole this picture from. Its been my little guilty pleasure. It makes me smile but tonight its a sad smile.

I'm just so tired. If Marla Singer had a brother it would be me but for all my work I feel even further from my goals. I'm going to be a lonely fat guy in a Smiths shirt by the end of the year and that is just so wrong.