"studying Ûļā§"
5teen, english
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Category: Life
To whoever finds this, or maybe to no one at all, It's late and I'm supposed to be asleep, but the moon is slanting through my curtain and the quiet feels like it's listening. The silence is deafening. So I thought I'd write to someone, anyone. Maybe even to you. Sometimes, I feel like I'm on the edge of something; like if I reached out far enough, I could touch the shimmer of a life I haven't liv... » Continue Reading
Category: Blogging
ahem written @ 01.17AM mood: somewhere between floating + falling haiii angels, it's way too late and i should be asleep but my mind is full again. i've got a mocha headache and i forgot to take off my mascara so it's all smudged. i feel a bit like a little ghost girl with chipped nails and too many thoughts. today, well yesterday now, was i don't even know. not bad. not good. kind of cotton cand... » Continue Reading
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Category: Blogging
There is a certain horror in watching one's breath stain a mirror - proof of life, yet an omen of its impermanence. The warmth dissipates, leaving no trace, a fleeting reminder that presence itself is a kind of haunting. I have often thought of my own existence in this way, caught between something I cannot name and something I do not yet understand. It is easy to believe in stark divisions, in go... » Continue Reading
Category: Blogging
I was raised in the Presbyterian ethic of respectability, a doctrine of neatness and duty, of sanctified piety encased in a rigid moral structure. My childhood was laced with the ghostly hand of Calvinism. As a child, I often sat beneath the pulpit, eyes darting to the looming architecture of our church, its stone a testament to an unrelenting past. Here, the human psyche found its training ground... » Continue Reading
Category: Blogging
A girl is not a girl but a cathedral built from her mother’s grief. Black glitter on the eyelids, falling like dust from some forgotten relic. Perfume like powdered sugar and prayers, but the kind whispered in desperation rather than devotion. She walks into the world carrying the weight of every woman before her, their sighs pressed into the lace of her dress, their heartbreak stitched into the s... » Continue Reading
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Category: Blogging
There are places we used to go that feel like crime scenes now. Not real crimes - just the kind where the air still hums with things left unsaid, with echoes of people we aren’t anymore. Some places are meant to be walked through, hand in hand, whispering secrets under street lights. Others are meant to be left behind, I think. Untouched, forgotten, sealed like an old letter no one dares to read. ... » Continue Reading
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Category: Blogging
I don’t lie. Not really. Not in the way you think. I don’t spin great webs of deceit, I don’t conjure entire falsehoods from thin air just to see how far they’ll stretch before snapping. I don’t tell stories to hurt people. I don’t lie like that. But I lie in the way that girls like me do. I embellish, I exaggerate, I shift things just slightly to the left, so they glisten just a little more prett... » Continue Reading
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Category: Blogging
HI GUYS! It's Evie, as you can probably tell and I'm BACK YAYAYAYAYAYAYA anyways its Monday! And today is a good Monday because it's half-term yay! Okay so I'm taking my GCSEs soon (final exams basically for the end of highschool) so I need to study. I've got a plan for today and I wanna start working at 9:00, so I'm on abit of a time crunch because it's already 8:26 and I need to grab breakfast, ... » Continue Reading
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Category: Blogging
Boredom is not the enemy. It is the birthplace of art, of poetry, of ideas too fragile to exist in the noise of the world. In a society that demands constant stimulation, we are taught to fear stillness, to treat empty moments as something to be filled. But what if boredom is not a void to be escaped, but a door waiting to be opened? When you are bored, you are forced to wander into your own mind,... » Continue Reading
Category: Blogging
Carpe diem - seize the day. A phrase carved into the bones of old poetry, whispered by poets with ink-stained fingers and tragic , beautiful lives. But what does it mean for us, in this quiet, modern world? To seize the day is not to grasp at it desperately, fearing its passing. It is to hold it » Continue Reading
— 2 Kudos
Category: Life
Hello, loves. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Life has been pulling me in a million different directions lately, and I finally have a moment to sit down, wrapped in my blanket, a mocha in hand, and just breathe. So let’s catch up, shall we? The most pressing thing on my mind right now? Speaking exams. They’re creeping closer like an unwanted guest, and despite my l » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
My bookshelf holds more than books. It’s a tiny museum of forgotten things: a chipped mug with daisies on it, a photograph of someone I don’t recognize, a key that doesn’t open anything anymore. Sometimes, I wonder about the lives these objects had before they came to me. Did the mug belong to someone who drank tea at sunrise, watching the world wake up? Did the photograph capture a fleeting, perf... » Continue Reading
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