I'm alive.

Just partially alive, but still. I'm here, live and drawing... a little apart from my dear games since I discovered the hallucinogen of PINTEREST, with which I've been fangirling, stalking and having monoparental attacks over several fandoms. However, I'm mostly unchanged: Joha's boss, Peeta's love, and I was caught stealing a yellow marker 'cause I really wanted it and I couldn't have possibly known that black ball thing was a 360 degree camera.

By the way, being officially in the H13YO cathegory of people, I have already pre-ordered my very own copy of ballad of songbirds and snakes that comes out aproximately six months from now. Do I care it's not in my mother tongue, and so I won't be able to get that natural, fresh sensation of innocence and cluelessness before the plot? Absolutely not. In the deepest, it aches, because I still can feel those summer nights when my heart cringed and swelled with the perfectly recognizable, perfectly understandable... spanish words of the first three books... oh, no... it's coming... 

¡¡¡VIVA ESPAÑA, COÑO!!! 

Yeet, what a tongue of mine.