My bracelet collection
Elis (who is very unfit and terrified of heights) is going on a hike up Snowdon. I sent him a text requesting he doesn’t die, even if he did bring me a load of Welsh Bacc work yesterday.
Call me miserable but I fucking hate warm weather. Nearly every item of clothing I own is black and I just generally hate the sun.
Every hour is a season, every minute is a day so I sit here picking stitches, I find comfort in decay, how I long to fill my lungs…
