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that first sip of coffee though

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[on the verge of having a complete breakdown] i need to make some kind of list or perhaps sort things into categories

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“To have spent my life holding my hands in tightly hidden fists. To try to understand what it would mean now to hold them open. I have always felt ashamed at being witnessed in the act of wanting something I could not have” ― Jennifer S. Cheng

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propaganda i am not falling for:

always moving on. some goodbyes need to rot a little. some griefs need to be held in the mouth like a stone.

beauty defined by algorithms. beauty exists in crow feet and smile lines

pretending to be chill. i’m not chill. i care deeply and inconveniently. i read into things. i write poems about eye contact

beige apartments with no soul. give me bookshelves and incense and loud art

sneaky links and unclear intentions. i want devotion. and also clarity

treating books as decor. read them. dog-ear them. argue with them in the margins

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x / martha gellhorn

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its always like be careful this song might become a memory. this cologne might become a memory. this brand of beer might become a memory. i time travel all the time

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stay earnest, be crazy, study study study, flirt with philosophy, cry at 2am then ace the test, fall in love with sentences, question everything, romanticize gray weather, seek truth like its art, read freud for fun, argue like you’re defending a dissertation, quote camus in casual texts, fear nothing but mediocrity

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I can't "fake it til I make it" today. May I interest you in a "fake it til I don't make it"?

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I wish everything was quieter and softer and less often. 

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this is so me

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