Y poco a poco vas aprendiendo a apretar el gatillo, a que no te tiemblen las manos y a que después que no lo practiques en las calles, también se considera un deporte. Que no es el objeto si no el uso que se le da.

God lost a bet when he made me
this starving thing that can never be filled,
this lonely thing that will never be loved;

I call my demons on a first-name basis.
They taught me how to read without light,
how to sleep in a bed of pins and needles.

In a dream I heard
Satan told God that night, “I bet
you can’t raise the dead back to life!”
But joke’s on them.
I’ve been dead since I started breathing.

Sade Andria Zabala (surfandwrite) | The Story of How I Was Born
(via surfandwrite)