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“Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it.”

― Donna Tartt, The Secret History

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Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Margaret Llewyn Davis, featured in The Selected Letters of Virginia Woolf

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I don't see enough people talking about Judy poovy repeating exactly what the greek class just discussed in a simpler matter. It's the definition of men's deeply philosophical thoughts being just another Wednesday afternoon for teenage girls

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𝔪𝔞𝔶

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i miss the summer rain

the sound of rain

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to be a star you must burn

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he lives the poetry that he cannot write

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me: i love the planet. i am the Lorax. i speak for the trees. also me, currently studying environmental law: i hope the trees sue me personally and win. i’ll represent them in court just to stop reading these godforsaken ACTS.

i thought studying environmental law would be beautiful. i thought i'd learn about the planet and policy and maybe cry over a glacier or two. i thought i'd be empowered. inspired. glowing with the righteous fire of climate justice.

instead i have developed a personal vendetta against the Environment (Protection) Act, 1986. section 3 has been haunting my dreams. i saw a tree today and flinched.

i do not study anymore. i hover above my body like a sad academic ghost while she re-reads the Air Act for the fifth time and highlights random phrases out of spite. i can’t feel feelings anymore. just clauses. sub-clauses. definitions. explanations. footnotes. yesterday i accidentally said “biological diversity” instead of “hello.”

i haven’t eaten a vegetable in four days and i’m studying environmental law. the irony tastes like instant coffee and regret.

you want to know how i’m doing? i named my Bare Acts. the EPA is called “Evil Papa Act.” the Water Act is “Tears, Unfiltered.” the Forest Conservation Act is just "Steve." Steve betrayed me. Repeatedly.

i tried to take a break and meditate. i lasted 30 seconds before the phrase “National Biodiversity Authority” floated into my brain and i screamed.

last night i cried for 12 straight minutes not because i was stressed, but because i read Schedule I and realized i, too, am endangered.

i have started bargaining with the universe. “please,” i whispered into the void at 3:17 am, “if you let me survive this exam, i will plant so many trees. i will singlehandedly offset my entire carbon footprint. i will never use a plastic straw again. just please let me remember Rule 5 of the Hazardous Waste Management Rules.”

and the void said nothing. because the void is also studying environmental law.

if i don’t survive this, tell my story. tell them i tried. tell them i fell fighting for the trees, even though i absolutely hated every single word i had to read about them.

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Espresso-stained pages, whispered thoughts between hardcover spines, and mornings that begin with poetry and croissants. A soft life of books, cafés, and intentional stillness.

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nothing hurts when you’re by my side

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The rain writes poetry on my window ☂︎⋆.°·☁︎

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“You can look at a picture for a week and never think of it again. You can also look at a picture for a second and think of it all your life.”

— Donna Tartt

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to be seen without performing. to be heard without screaming. to be missed without disappearing. to be enough without proving it. to be held without falling apart. to be understood without explaining. to be wanted without conditions. to be. to be.

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𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔠𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔦𝔠 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔪𝔦𝔱