Shit a gay nerd finds.

What is loneliness? Is it the prison of my own room where I am both inmate and warden? Laying awake on another night of no sleep with 4 moons above me in fixed position casting down a sickly tungsten glow, suspended in argon and glass as I sit and wonder why my life isn't the steady flow or the coursing maelstrom, but the ice floe doomed to float wherever the current dictates until I crack and break and melt away to nothing, water in an ocean of the same, no identity to make you see that I am who I am that I was that I will be, pulled apart until my identity ceases to be, dried up and rained down and consumed by you who do not see me as more than my parts for I have not been whole for a long time since I crashed to this planet and proclaimed an adult with dreams and ideals and motivations to SEE ME! shiny and new, marching with booted feet and a gun in my hand, destined to go to a foreign land and gather hearts and minds while others like me joke two in the heart one in the mind, but the war has been over for me for years, now just a background set piece for the lives of others. The queer friend no one knows is queer, the friend who is always good for advice, the vent for your worries and anger and pain, your dirty little secret kept tucked away in the shoebox at the back of your closet but never your prized possession to be displayed for all to see is all I want to be, if even just for a moment to hear those words from you, that I'm worthy would be enough to set me free but I know I will never hear or see or feel this from you because you can't place value on me, for I have forgotten how to place value upon myself a twisted fat ugly thing that cannot change his tiger striped skin no matter how he tries to figure it out no job no school no career no prospects a pitiable, broken thing that asks for love but has nothing to give in return but hope that I can transform into something new, beautiful as your passion and pure as the virgin birth both and neither colliding in dissonant harmony to the rhythm that will make me more than just the background that you will never appreciate but the focus of the art that is our lives until you can remember me my name my parts my whole my surface and depths that contain just what is and not what everything else creates

Oh, come on. Don't just throw your dildo on the floor like that, especially when it's still all gross and wet.. It's gonna be hell cleaning it later.

Van DAMN!

Aaaaaaaand Wolfgang pisses on his dad’s grave.

The best thing about Sense8 is that you get 8 different stories that exemplify popular genres from the cultures each main represents.

Ah, Riley Blue, hours before her life turned to shit. Or was made better? Tbh the kind of people she hangs around in her first appearances are precisely the people that I would like to punch.

Lito’s first scene is of him dripping with blood and looking ready to kill. Little do we know that he turns out to be the least badass character on this show.