Franz Kafka, From “Diaries, 1910-1923”

Franz Kafka, from “Diaries, 1910-1923”

my former gifted kid playlist directory

autumn. frosted breaths, hot drinks, tweed blazers and knitted sweaters. coloured candles and stacks of classics in dimly lit rooms. library dates and early morning coffee runs. witches, pumpkins, brown jackets. the air is heavy but the coffee is warm. the leaves are falling and its time to fully embrace the dark academia aesthetic and go feral, as we do.

yearning. an almost constant state of being at this point. poetry, calloused fingers, white flowing shirts, candlelight, long eyelashes, twisting your ring on your finger, words dying in your throat every time you look at them, patterns traced on skin, a brush of fingers, fading memories, car conversations, sly nicknames, stolen kisses, broken promises.

introspection. coffee shops, foggy mornings, rainy evenings, city lights, flannel shirts, silver rings, dark colours, elliot smith, true crime podcasts, eye contact across a dim cafe, secondhand smoke, secondhand shirt, ink stains, faded jeans, chilly nights, messy notes, great music taste, probably gatekeeps, optimistic nihilist, feeling stuck, feeling like you’re meant for more than this.

feeling the big sad again. not really sure what brought it on, listening to sad songs to cope, rewatching comfort movies, nostalgia, self doubt, tracing a path on a map with your finger, leather watches, closed curtains, cancelled calls, staggered breaths, gasps for air, drying tears, midnight ice cream, watching the sunset, sighs of relief, hopeful smiles, things will get better.

overstimulated. too loud, too quiet, too many people, not enough. long walks, art galleries and bookstores. tangled earphones and painted totebags. need to collect your thoughts, need an iced coffee. skipping every song because you can’t find the right one, your head’s a mess but your outfit is great today.

love. slow songs, dancing in the kitchen, fingers intertwined, cheap wine, good company, philosophical talks on the roof, knowing looks and wry grins, laughing together while making breakfast, oversized sweaters and cold hands, flowing dresses and loosened ties, candles and annotated paperbacks, dirty jokes and warm hugs, home.

sunlight. rays streaming through the windows, it’s saturday and you can sleep in, warm sheets, freshly brewed coffee, a cat jumping onto the counter top, syrup and pancakes, plants on the windowsill, arms around your waist in the kitchen, the radio is playing, soft tunes cutting through the morning, you’re awake and ready to face the day.

moonlight. hot chocolate, fairy lights, thinking aloud, cozy socks, the feel of cotton and the smell of rain, making playlists and rereading childhood classics, cough percy jackson cough, indie folk music, the colour dark green, making tea, listening to traffic, worn-in sweatshirts and vines on the wall, lamps, late night snacks, doing your best.

iridescence. the feeling you get leaving a movie theatre. neon lights, midnight strolls, bus rides home, vivid pink clouds, blueberry slushies, shitty alcohol, leather jackets, the colour purple, a24 films, eyes closed against a car window, bubble gum, sarcasm, graffiti, disassociating at frat parties, retro diners at 2am, a secret romantic, tired, can’t wait to see the world.

arson. fiery eyes and deep purple eyeliner, kind of want to be left alone, kind of want to rule the world, smashing plates in abandoned houses, smudged mascara, 4am mcdonalds, stop signs, screaming lyrics from a rooftop, combat boots, chipped black nail polish, head banging and big smiles, conspiratorial winks and high fives, optimism and anarchy.

let’s get high. self explanatory.

dude that little kid is hardcore goth. soundtrack from when we were 14. sorry.

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