4.2.22.sa

The semester has been so busy! Sorry I’m so slow with posts! I got into the Advanced Honors College this week, and started making my schedule for next semester so there’s a light at the end of the tunnel at least.

Some of my favorite fashion history notes this semester :)

2.19.22

Sorry for being so inactive! I got elected to residence hall council this semester and joined the debate team so that’s all eating my time up. A lot of my class work is writing this semester so I’m really enjoying it.

How are your class going so far?

Take care of yourselves!

enough (poem)

I am enough.

I keep repeating that I am enough

as if that was enough for me.

When I say I am enough

it’s because I can’t allow myself to love anyone else

but me.

— a poem by me on a midnight

The essence of me lives on in these nuances, these moments.

- Lang Leav, Lullabies

- Franz Kafka

Dark Acedemia

Sometimes I go through these weird moments where it occurs to me nothing I say or do really matters and everything feels really empty and dismal and then I remember that I get joy from doing these “useless” things and that that’s all that really matters because fuck unreality you know what I mean?

Kawaii Academia

________

°cute notebooks and neat handwriting

°cute pencils and erasers

°doodle cats in the margins of textbooks

° skirts and turtlenecks, a knitted sweater falling around your shoulders

°soft voices, loud minds

°soft classical and lo-fi as you study

°customizing your computer cursor into a strawberry or something

°calligraphy

°writing poetry at lunch with your friends, or outside under a large shady tree

°tea with a lot of honey

°whispering songs under your breath and humming as you work

°writing essays on characters you like, or concepts that will help the world

°stuffed animals you read essays and presentations to

°naming everything you see

•Van Gogh’s flowers•

We have found out forever

That blood smells only of blood.

Something about angel wings-

Much about a broken heart.

How slow life seems to me,

How violent the hope of love can be.

It should be enough.

To make something beautiful should be enough.

It isn’t.

It should be.

I- so imperfect, so weak,

So unbelievably lonely.

I had a very childlike rage

And a very childlike loneliness.

And if the devil was ever to see you,

He’d kiss your eyes and repent.

What do you seek?

Ocean Vuong, “On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous”

maximalist interiors

Drowning in my sea of melancholy, your montage of chaos